THE   WORKS    OF 

CHARLES  DICKENS 


ife^ 

v    >\?Al-    • ...  J  ', 


MR.    WELLER    IMMERSING    MR.    STIGGINS'S    HEAD. 


National  ICthranj  Ibttuw 


THE  WORKS   OF 

CHARLES   DICKENS 


PICKWICK   PAPERS 

PARTS   ONE  AND  TWO 


,  Sroum  anil  010.,  3nr. 


THE  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

THE   PICKWICK  CLUB 

BEING  A  FAITHFUL  RECORD  OF  THE 
PERAMBULATIONS,  PERILS,  TRAVELS, 
ADVENTURES,  AND  SPORTING  TRANS- 
ACTIONS OF  THE  CORRESPONDING 
MEMBERS;  EDITED  BY  BOZ. 


With  Illustrations  by 

ROBERT  SEYMOUR 

HABLOT  KNIGHT  BROWNE  ('PHIZ') 


IN   TWO   VOLUMES 
VOL.    I 


2506171 


'The  Posthumous  Papers  of  the  Pickwick  Club' 
was  first  published  as  a  volume  in  1837,  having 
previously  been  issued  in  twenty  monthly  parts 
from  April  1836  to  November  1837. 

This  Edition  contains  all  the  copyright  emen- 
dations made  in  the  text  as  revised  by  the  Au 
thor  in  1867  and  1868. 


DEDICATION 

TO  THE   ORIGINAL  EDITION 


To  MR.  SERJEANT  TALFOURD,  M.P., 

ETC.   ETC. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, 

If  I  had  not  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  your  pri- 
vate friendship,  I  should  still  have  dedicated  this  work 
to  you,  as  a  slight  and  most  inadequate  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  inestimable  services  you  are  rendering  to 
the  literature  of  your  country,  and  of  the  lasting  bene- 
fits you  will  confer  upon  the  authors  of  this  and 
succeeding  generations,  by  securing  to  them  and  their 
descendants  a  permanent  interest  in  the  copyright  of 
their  works. 

Many  a  fevered  head  and  palsied  hand  will  gather 
new  vigour  in  the  hour  of  sickness  and  distress  from 
your  excellent  exertions ;  many  a  widowed  mother  and 
orphan  child,  who  would  otherwise  reap  nothing  from 
the  fame  of  departed  genius  but  its  too  frequent 
legacy  of  poverty  and  suffering,  will  bear,  in  their 
altered  condition,  higher  testimony  to  the  value  of 
your  labours  than  the  most  lavish  encomiums  from 
lip  or  pen  could  ever  afford. 

Beside  such  tributes,  any  avowal  of  feeling  from 
me,  on  the  question  to  which  you  have  devoted  the 
combined  advantages  of  your  eloquence,  character, 
and  genius,  would  be  powerless  indeed.  Nevertheless, 
in  thus  publicly  expressing  my  deep  and  grateful 


x  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sense  of  your  efforts  in  behalf  of  English  literature, 
and  of  those  who  devote  themselves  to  the  most  pre- 
carious of  all  pursuits,  I  do  but  imperfect  justice  to 
my  own  strong  feelings  on  the  subject,  if  I  do  no 
service  to  you. 

These  few  sentences  would  have  comprised  all  I 
should  have  had  to  say,  if  I  had  only  known  you  in 
your  public  character.  On  the  score  of  private  feel- 
ing, let  me  add  one  word  more. 

Accept  the  dedication  of  this  book,  my  dear  Sir, 
as  a  mark  of  my  warmest  regard  and  esteem — as  a 
memorial  of  the  most  gratifying  friendship  I  have 
ever  contracted,  and  of  some  of  the  pleasantest  hours 
I  have  ever  spent — as  a  token  of  my  fervent  admira- 
tion of  every  fine  quality  of  your  head  and  heart — 
as  an  assurance  of  the  truth  and  sincerity  with  which 
I  shall  ever  be, 

My  dear  Sir, 
Most  faithfully  and  sincerely  yours, 

CHARLES  DICKENS. 

48  DOUGHTY  STREET, 
September  27,  1837. 


PICKWICK  PAPERS 


ADDRESSES  AND  PREFACES 

ADDRESS  WHICH  APPEARED  IN  PART  X., 
JANUARY,  1837 

TEN  months  have  now  elapsed  since  the  appearance 
of  the  first  number  of  the  Pickwick  Papers.  At  the 
close  of  the  year,  and  the  conclusion  of  half  his  task, 
their  Author  may  perhaps,  without  any  unwarrantable 
intrusion  on  the  notice  of  the  public,  venture  to  say  a 
few  words  for  himself. 

He  has  long  been  desirous  to  embrace  the  first  op- 
portunity of  announcing  that  it  is  his  intention  to 
adhere  to  his  original  pledge  of  confining  this  work 
to  twenty  numbers.  He  has  every  temptation  to  ex- 
ceed the  limits  he  first  assigned  to  himself,  that  bril- 
liant success,  an  enormous  and  increasing  sale,  the 
kindest  notice,  and  the  most  extensive  popularity,  can 
hold  out.  They  are,  one  and  all,  sad  temptations  to 
an  author,  but  he  has  determined  to  resist  them ;  firstly, 
because  he  wishes  to  keep  the  strictest  faith  with  his 
readers ;  and,  secondly,  because  he  is  most  anxious  that 
when  the  Posthumous  Papers  of  the  Pickwick  Club 
form  a  complete  work,  the  book  may  not  have  to  con- 
tend against  the  heavy  disadvantage  of  being  pro- 
longed beyond  his  original  plan. 

For  ten  months  longer,  then,  if  the  Author  be  per- 
mitted to  retain  his  health  and  spirits,  the  Pickwick 
Papers  will  be  issued  in  their  present  form,  and  will 
then  be  completed.  By  what  fresh  adventures  they 
may  be  succeeded  is  no  matter  for  present  considera- 
tion. The  Author  merely  hints  that  he  has  strong 

xi 


xii  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

reason  to  believe  that  a  great  variety  of  other  docu- 
ments still  lie  hidden  in  the  repository  from  which 
these  were  taken,  and  that  they  may  one  dav  see  the 
light. 

With  this  short  speech,  Mr.  Pickwick's  stage- 
manager  makes  his  most  grateful  bow,  adding,  on 
behalf  of  himself  and  publishers,  what  the  late  emi- 
nent Mr.  John  Richardson,  of  Horsemonger  Lane, 
Southwark,  and  the  Yellow  Caravan  with  the  Brass 
Knocker,  always  said  on  behalf  of  himself  and  com- 
pany, at  the  close  of  every  performance — 

'Ladies  and  gentlemen,  for  these  marks  of  your 
favour,  we  beg  to  return  you  our  sincere  thanks ;  and 
allow  us  to  inform  you,  that  we  shall  keep  perpetually 
going  on  beginning  again,  regularly,  until  the  end  of 
the  fair.' 

December,  1836. 


ADDRESS  WHICH  APPEARED  IN  PART  XV., 
JULY,  1837 

186,  Strand,  June  30th,   1837- 

THE  Author  is  desirous  to  take  the  opportunity  af- 
forded him  by  his  resumption  of  this  work,  to  state 
once  again  what  he  thought  had  been  stated  suffi- 
ciently emphatically  before,  namely,  that  its  publica- 
tion was  interrupted  by  a  severe  domestic  affliction  of 
no  ordinary  kind;  that  this  was  the  sole  cause  of  the 
non-appearance  of  the  present  number  in  the  usual 
course ;  and  that  henceforth  it  will  continue  to  be  pub- 
lished with  its  accustomed  regularity. 

However  superfluous  this  second  notice  may  appear 
to  many,  it  is  rendered  necessary  by  various  idle 
speculations  and  absurdities  which  have  been  industri- 
ously propagated  during  the  past  month,  which  have 


PREFACES 


xm 


reached  the  Author's  ears  from  every  quarter,  and 
have  pained  him  exceedingly.  By  one  set  of  intimate 
acquaintances,  especially  well-informed,  he  has  been 
killed  outright;  by  another,  driven  mad;  by  a  third, 
imprisoned  for  debt ;  by  a  fourth,  sent  per  steamer  to 
the  United  States;  by  a  fifth,  rendered  incapable  of 
any  mental  exertion  for  evermore;  by  all,  in  short, 
represented  as  doing  anything  but  seeking  in  a  few 
weeks'  retirement  the  restoration  of  that  cheerfulness 
and  peace  of  which  a  sad  bereavement  had  temporarily 
deprived  him. 

Notice  to  Correspondents. — We  receive  every 
month  an  immense  number  of  communications  pur- 
porting to  be  'suggestions'  for  Pickwick  Papers. 
We  have  no  doubt  that  they  are  furnished  with  the 
kindest  intentions ;  but  as  it  is  wholly  out  of  our  power 
to  make  use  of  any  such  hints,  and  as  we  really  have 
no  time  to  peruse  anonymous  letters,  we  hope  the 
writers  will  henceforth  spare  themselves  a  great  deal 
of  unnecessary  and  useless  trouble. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 

THE  Author's  object  in  this  work,  was  to  place  be- 
fore the  reader  a  constant  succession  of  characters  and 
incidents;  to  paint  them  in  as  vivid  colours  as  he 
could  command ;  and  to  render  them,  at  the  same  time, 
life-like  and  amusing. 

Deferring  to  the  judgment  of  others  in  the  outset 
of  the  undertaking,  he  adopted  the  machinery  of  the 
club,  which  was  suggested  as  that  best  adapted  to  his 
purpose:  but,  finding  that  it  tended  rather  to  his  em- 
barrassment than  otherwise,  he  gradually  abandoned 
it,  considering  it  a  matter  of  very  little  importance 


xiv  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  the  work  whether  strictly  epic  justice  were  awarded 
to  the  club,  or  not. 

The  publication  of  the  book  in  monthly  numbers, 
containing  only  thirty-two  pages  in  each,  rendered 
it  an  object  of  paramount  importance  that,  while  the 
different  incidents  were  linked  together  by  a  chain 
of  interest  strong  enough  to  prevent  their  appearing 
unconnected  or  impossible,  the  general  design  should 
be  so  simple  as  to  sustain  no  injury  from  this  detached 
and  desultory  form  of  publication,  extending  over 
no  fewer  than  twenty  months.  In  short,  it  was  neces- 
sary— or  it  appeared  so  to  the  Author — that  every 
number  should  be,  to  a  certain  extent,  complete  in 
itself,  and  yet  that  the  whole  twenty  numbers,  when 
collected,  should  form  one  tolerably  harmonious  whole, 
each  leading  to  the  other  by  a  gentle  and  not  un- 
natural progress  of  adventure. 

It  is  obvious  that  in  a  work  published  with  a  view 
to  such  considerations,  no  artfully  interwoven  or  in- 
geniously complicated  plot  can  with  reason  be  ex- 
pected. The  Author  ventures  to  express  a  hope  that 
he  has  successfully  surmounted  the  difficulties  of  his 
undertaking.  And  if  it  be  objected  to  the  Pickwick 
Papers,  that  they  are  a  mere  series  of  adventures,  in 
which  the  scenes  are  ever  changing,  and  the  characters 
come  and  go  like  the  men  and  women  we  encounter 
in  the  real  world,  he  can  only  content  himself  with  the 
reflection,  that  they  claim  to  be  nothing  else,  and  that 
the  same  objection  has  been  made  to  the  works  of  some 
of  the  greatest  novelists  in  the  English  language. 

The  following  pages  have  been  written  from  time 
to  time,  almost  as  the  periodical  occasion  arose.  Hav- 
ing been  written  for  the  most  part  in  the  society  of 
a  very  dear  young  friend  who  is  now  no  more,  they 
are  connected  in  the  Author's  mind  at  once  with  the 


PREFACES 


xv 


happiest  period  of  his  life,  and  with  its  saddest  and 
most  severe  affliction. 

It  is  due  to  the  gentleman,  whose  designs  accom- 
pany the  letterpress,  to  state  that  the  interval  has 
been  so  short  between  the  production  of  each  num- 
ber in  manuscript  and  its  appearance  in  print,  that 
the  greater  portion  of  the  illustrations  have  been  ex- 
ecuted by  the  artist  from  the  Author's  mere  verbal 
description  of  what  he  intended  to  write. 

The  almost  unexampled  kindness  and  favour  with 
which  these  papers  have  been  received  by  the  public 
will  be  a  never-failing  source  of  gratifying  and 
pleasant  recollection  while  their  Author  lives.  He 
trusts  that,  throughout  this  book,  no  incident  or  ex- 
pression occurs  which  could  call  a  blush  into  the  most 
delicate  cheek,  or  wound  the  feelings  of  the  most 
sensitive  person.  If  any  of  his  imperfect  descriptions, 
while  they  afford  amusement  in  the  perusal,  should 
induce  only  one  reader  to  think  better  of  his  fellow- 
men,  and  to  look  upon  the  brighter  and  more  kindly 
side  of  human  nature,  he  would  indeed  be  proud  and 
happy  to  have  led  to  such  a  result. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  CHEAP  EDITION 

AN  Author  who  has  much  to  communicate  under  this 
head,  and  expects  to  have  it  attended  to,  may  be  com- 
pared to  a  man  who  takes  his  friend  by  the  button  at 
a  Theatre  Door,  and  seeks  to  entertain  him  with  a 
personal  gossip  before  he  goes  in  to  the  play. 

Nevertheless,  as  Prefaces,  though  seldom  read,  are 
continually  written,  no  doubt  for  the  behoof  of  that 
so  richly  and  so  disinterestedly  endowed  personage, 
Posterity  (who  will  come  into  an  immense  fortune), 


xvi  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

I  add  my  legacy  to  the  general  remembrance;  the 
rather  as  ten  years  have  elapsed  since  the  Pickwick 
Papers  appeared  in  a  completed  form,  and  nearly 
twelve  since  the  first  monthly  part  was  published. 

It  was  observed,  in  the  Preface  to  the  original  Edi- 
tion, that  they  were  designed  for  the  introduction  of 
diverting  characters  and  incidents;  that  no  ingenuity 
of  plot  was  attempted,  or  even  at  that  time  considered 
very  feasible  by  the  Author  in  connection  with  the 
desultory  mode  of  publication  adopted;  and  that  the 
machinery  of  the  Club,  proving  cumbrous  in  the  man- 
agement, was  gradually  abandoned  as  the  work  pro- 
gressed. Although,  on  one  of  these  points,  experience 
and  study  has  since  taught  me  something,  and  I  could 
perhaps  wish  now  that  these  chapters  were  strung  to- 
gether on  a  stronger  thread  of  general  interest,  still, 
what  they  are  they  were  designed  to  be. 

In  the  course  of  the  last  dozen  years,  I  have  seen 
various  accounts  of  the  origin  of  these  Pickwick 
Papers;  which  have,  at  all  events,  possessed — for  me 
— the  charm  of  perfect  novelty.  As  I  may  infer, 
from  the  occasional  appearance  of  such  histories,  that 
my  readers  have  an  interest  in  the  matter,  I  will  relate 
how  they  came  into  existence. 

I  was  a  young  man  of  three-and-twenty,  when  the 
present  publishers,  attracted  by  some  pieces  I  was  at 
that  time  writing  in  the  Morning  Chronicle  news- 
paper (of  which  one  series  had  lately  been  collected 
and  published  in  two  volumes,  illustrated  by  my 
esteemed  friend  Mr.  George  Cruikshank),  waited 
upon  me  to  propose  a  something  that  should  be  pub- 
lished in  shilling  numbers — -then  only  known  to  me, 
or,  I  believe,  to  anybody  else,  by  a  dim  recollection  of 
certain  interminable  novels  in  that  form,  which  used, 
some  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  to  be  carried  about 
the  country  by  pedlars,  and  over  some  of  which  I  re- 


PREFACES  xvii 

member  to  have  shed  innumerable  tears,  before  1 
served  my  apprenticeship  to  Life. 

When  I  opened  my  door  in  FurnivaFs  Inn  to  the 
managing  partner  who  represented  the  firm,  I  recog- 
nised in  him  the  person  from  whose  hands  I  had 
bought,  two  or  three  years  previously,  and  whom  I 
had  never  seen  before  or  since,  my  first  copy  of  the 
Magazine  in  which  my  first  effusion — dropped 
stealthily  one  evening  at  twilight,  with  fear  and 
trembling,  into  a  dark  letter-box,  in  a  dark  office, 
up  a  dark  court  in  Fleet  Street — appeared  in  all  the 
glory  of  print;  on  which  occasion,  by-the-bye — how 
well  I  recollect  it! — I  walked  down  to  Westminster 
Hall,  and  turned  into  it  for  half  an  hour,  because  my 
eyes  were  so  dimmed  with  joy  and  pride,  that  they 
could  not  bear  the  street,  and  were  not  fit  to  be  seen 
there.  I  told  my  visitor  of  the  coincidence,  which  we 
both  hailed  as  a  good  omen ;  and  so  fell  to  business. 

The  idea  propounded  to  me  was  that  the  monthly 
something  should  be  a  vehicle  for  certain  plates  to 
be  executed  by  Mr.  Seymour,  and  there  was  a  notion, 
either  on  the  part  of  that  admirable  humorous  artist, 
or  of  my  visitor  (I  forget  which),  that  a  'Nimrod 
Club,'  the  members  of  which  were  to  go  out  shooting, 
fishing,  and  so  forth,  and  getting  themselves  into 
difficulties  through  their  want  of  dexterity,  would  be 
the  best  means  of  introducing  these.  I  objected,  on 
consideration,  that  although  born  and  partly  bred  in 
the  country  I  was  no  great  sportsman,  except  in  re- 
gard of  all  kinds  of  locomotion;  that  the  idea  was  not 
novel,  and  had  been  already  much  used;  that  it  would 
be  infinitely  better  for  the  plates  to  arise  naturally 
out  of  the  text;  and  that  I  should  like  to  take  my  own 
way,  with  a  freer  range  of  English  scenes  and  people, 
and  was  afraid  I  should  ultimately  do  so  in  any  case, 
whatever  course  I  might  prescribe  to  myself  at  start- 


xviii         THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ing.  My  views  being  deferred  to,  I  thought  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  and  wrote  the  first  number ;  from  the  proof 
sheets  of  which,  Mr.  Seymour  made  his  drawing  of 
the  Club,  and  that  happy  portrait  of  its  founder,  by 
which  he  is  always  recognised,  and  which  may  be  said 
to  have  made  him  a  reality.  I  connected  Mr.  Pick- 
wick with  a  club,  because  of  the  original  suggestion, 
and  I  put  in  Mr.  Winkle  expressly  for  the  use  of  Mr. 
Seymour.  We  started  with  a  number  of  twenty-four 
pages  instead  of  thirty-two,  and  four  illustrations  in 
lieu  of  a  couple.  Mr.  Seymour's  sudden  and  la- 
mented death  before  the  second  number  was  published, 
brought  about  a  quick  decision  upon  a  point  already 
in  agitation;  the  number  became  one  of  thirty-two 
pages  with  two  illustrations,  and  remained  so  to  the 
end.  My  friends  told  me  it  was  a  low,  cheap  form 
of  publication,  by  which  I  should  ruin  all  my  rising 
hopes;  and  how  right  my  friends  turned  out  to  be, 
everybody  now  knows. 

'Boz,'  my  signature  in  the  Morning  Chronicle,  ap- 
pended to  the  monthly  cover  of  this  book,  and  retained 
long  afterwards,  was  the  nickname  of  a  pet  child,  a 
younger  brother,  whom  I  had  dubbed  Moses,  in 
honour  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield;  which  being  fa- 
cetiously pronounced  through  the  nose,  became  Boses, 
and  being  shortened,  became  Boz.  'Boz'  was  a  very 
familiar  household  word  to  me,  long  before  I  was  an 
author,  and  so  I  came  to  adopt  it. 

It  has  been  observed  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  that  there  is 
a  decided  change  in  his  character,  as  these  pages  pro- 
ceed, and  that  he  becomes  more  good  and  more  sensi- 
ble. I  do  not  think  this  change  will  appear  forced 
or  unnatural  to  my  readers,  if  they  will  reflect  that  in 
real  life  the  peculiarities  and  oddities  of  a  man  who 
has  anything  whimsical  about  him,  generally  impress 
us  first,  and  that  it  is  not  until  we  are  better  acquainted 


PREFACES  xix 

with  him  that  we  usually  begin  to  look  below  these 
superficial  traits,  and  to  know  the  better  part  of  him. 

Lest  there  should  be  any  well-intentioned  persons 
who  do  not  perceive  the  difference  (as  some  such  could 
not,  when  OLD  MORTALITY  was  newly  published)  be- 
tween religion  and  the  cant  of  religion,  piety  and  the 
pretence  of  piety,  a  humble  reverence  for  the  great 
truths  of  Scripture  and  an  audacious  and  offensive 
obtrusion  of  its  letter  and  not  its  spirit  in  the  com- 
monest dissensions  and  meanest  affairs  of  life,  to  the 
extraordinary  confusion  of  ignorant  minds,  let  them 
understand  that  it  is  always  the  latter,  and  never  the 
former,  which  is  satirised  here.  Further,  that  the  lat- 
ter is  here  satirised  as  being,  according  to  all  experi- 
ence, inconsistent  with  the  former,  impossible  of  union 
with  it,  and  one  of  the  most  evil  and  mischievous  false- 
hoods existent  in  society — whether  it  establish  its 
head-quarters,  for  the  time  being,  in  Exeter  Hall,  or 
Ebenezer  Chapel,  or  both.  It  may  appear  unneces- 
sary to  offer  a  word  of  observation  on  so  plain  a  head. 
But  it  is  never  out  of  season  to  protest  against  that 
coarse  familiarity  with  sacred  things  which  is  busy 
on  the  lip,  and  idle  in  the  heart;  or  against  the  con- 
founding of  Christianity  with  any  class  of  persons 
who,  in  the  words  of  SWIFT,  have  just  enough  religion 
to  make  them  hate,  and  not  enough  to  make  them  love, 
one  another. 

I  have  found  it  curious  and  interesting,  'looking 
over  the  sheets  of  this  reprint,  to  mark  what  impor- 
tant social  improvements  have  taken  place  about  us, 
almost  imperceptibly,  even  since  they  were  originally 
written.  The  licence  of  Counsel,  and  the  degree  to 
which  Juries  are  ingeniously  bewildered,  are  yet  sus- 
ceptible of  moderation;  while  an  improvement  in  the 
mode  of  conducting  Parliamentary  Elections  (espe- 
cially for  counties)  is  still  within  the  bounds  of  possi- 


xx  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

bility.  But  legal  reforms  have  pared  the  claws  of 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg;  a  spirit  of  self-respect, 
mutual  forbearance,  education,  and  co-operation,  for 
such  good  ends,  has  diffused  itself  among  their  clerks ; 
places  far  apart  are  brought  together,  to  the  present 
convenience  and  advantage  of  the  Public,  and  to  the 
certain  destruction,  in  time,  of  a  host  of  petty  jealous- 
ies, blindnesses,  and  prejudices,  by  which  the  Public 
alone  have  always  been  the  sufferers ;  the  laws  relating 
to  imprisonment  for  debt  are  altered;  and  the  Fleet 
Prison  is  pulled  down ! 

With  such  a  retrospect,  extending  through  so  short 
a  period,  I  shall  cherish  the  hope  that  every  volume 
of  this  Edition  will  afford  me  an  opportunity  of  re- 
cording the  extermination  of  some  wrong  or  abuse 
set  forth  in  it.  Who  knows,  but  by  the  time  the 
series  reaches  its  conclusion,  it  may  be  discovered  that 
there  are  even  magistrates  in  town  and  country,  who 
should  be  taught  to  shake  hands  every  day  with  Com- 
mon-sense and  Justice;  that  even  Poor  Laws  may 
have  mercy  on  the  weak,  the  aged,  and  unfortunate; 
that  Schools,  on  the  broad  principles  of  Christianity, 
are  the  best  adornment  for  the  length  and  breadth  of 
this  civilised  land ;  that  Prison-doors  should  be  barred 
on  the  outside,  no  less  heavily  and  carefully  than  they 
are  barred  within;  that  the  universal  diffusion  of 
common  means  of  decency  and  health  is  as  much  the 
right  of  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  as  it  is  indispensable 
to  the  safety  of  the  rich,  and  of  the  State ;  that  a  few 
petty  boards  and  bodies — less  than  drops  in  the  great 
ocean  of  humanity,  which  roars  around  them — are  not 
to  let  loose  Fever  and  Consumption  on  God's  creatures 
at  their  will,  or  always  to  keep  their  little  fiddles  going, 
for  a  Dance  of  Death! 

And  that  Cheap  Literature  is  not  behind-hand  with 
the  Age,  but  holds  its  place,  and  strives  to  do  its  duty. 


PREFACES 


xxi 


I  trust  the  series  in  itself  may  help  much  worthy  com- 
pany to  show. 

LONDON,  September,  1847. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  'CHARLES  DICKENS'  EDITION 

IT  was  observed,  in  the  Preface  to  the  original  Edi- 
tion of  the  'Posthumous  Papers  of  the  Pickwick  Club,' 
that  they  were  designed  for  the  introduction  of  di- 
verting characters  and  incidents ;  that  no  ingenuity  of 
plot  was  attempted,  or  even  at  that  time  considered 
very  feasible  by  the  author  in  connexion  with  the 
desultory  mode  of  publication  adopted;  and  that  the 
machinery  of  the  Club,  proving  cumbrous  in  the  man- 
agement, was  gradually  abandoned  as  the  work  pro- 
gressed. Although,  on  one  of  these  points,  experi- 
ence and  study  afterwards  taught  me  something,  and 
I  could  perhaps  wish  now  that  these  chapters  were 
strung  together  on  a  stronger  thread  of  general  in- 
terest, still,  what  they  are  they  were  designed  to  be. 

I  have  seen  various  accounts  of  the  origin  of  these 
Pickwick  Papers,  which  have,  at  all  events,  possessed 
— for  me — the  charm  of  perfect  novelty.  As  I  may 
infer,  from  the  occasional  appearance  of  such  his- 
tories, that  my  readers  have  an  interest  in  the  matter, 
I  will  relate  how  they  came  into  existence. 

I  was  a  young  man  of  two  or  three-and-twenty, 
when  MESSRS.  CHAPMAN  and  HALL,  attracted  by 
some  pieces  I  was  at  that  time  writing  in  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  newspaper,  or  had  just  written  in  the  old 
Monthly  Magazine  (of  which  one  series  had  lately 
been  collected  and  published  in  two  volumes,  illus- 
trated by  MR.  GEORGE  CRUIKSHANK),  waited  upon 
me  to  propose  a  something  that  should  be  published 
in  shilling  numbers, — then  only  known  to  me,  or,  I 


xxii          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

believe,  to  anybody  else,  by  a  dim  recollection  of  cer- 
tain interminable  novels  in  that  form,  which  used  to 
be  carried  about  the  country  by  pedlars,  and  over  some 
of  which  I  remember  to  have  shed  innumerable  tears 
before  I  had  served  my  apprenticeship  to  Life. 

When  I  opened  my  door  in  Furnival's  Inn  to  the 
partner  who  represented  the  firm,  I  recognised  in  him 
the  person  from  whose  hands  I  had  bought,  two  or 
three  years  previously,  and  whom  I  had  never  seen 
before  or  since,  my  first  copy  of  the  Magazine  in 
which  my  first  effusion — a  paper  in  the  'Sketches,' 
called  MR.  MINNS  AND  HIS  COUSIN — dropped  stealth- 
ily one  evening  at  twilight,  with  fear  and  trembling, 
into  a  dark  letter-box,  in  a  dark  office,  up  a  dark 
court  in  Fleet  Street — appeared  in  all  the  glory  of 
print;  on  which  occasion  I  walked  down  to  West- 
minster Hall,  and  turned  into  it  for  half  an  hour,  be- 
cause my  eyes  were  so  dimmed  with  joy  and  pride, 
that  they  could  not  bear  the  street,  and  were  not  fit 
to  be  seen  there.  I  told  my  visitor  of  the  coincidence, 
which  we  both  hailed  as  a  good  omen;  and  so  fell  to 
business. 

The  idea  propounded  to  me  was,  that  the  monthly 
something  should  be  a  vehicle  for  certain  plates  to 
be  executed  by  MR.  SEYMOUR  ;  and  there  was  a  notion, 
either  on  the  part  of  that  admirable  humorous  artist, 
or  of  my  visitor,  that  a  'NiMROD  Club,'  the  members 
of  which  were  to  go  out  shooting,  fishing,  and  so 
forth,  and  getting  themselves  into  difficulties  through 
their  want  of  dexterity,  would  be  the  best  means  of 
introducing  these.  I  objected,  on  consideration,  that 
although  born  and  partly  bred  in  the  country,  I  was 
no  great  sportsman,  except  in  regard  of  all  kinds  of 
locomotion ;  that  the  idea  was  not  novel,  and  had  been 
already  much  used;  that  it  would  be  infinitely  better 
for  the  plates  to  arise  naturally  out  of  the  text;  and 


PREFACES 


xxm 


that  I  would  like  to  take  my  own  way,  with  a  freer 
range  of  English  scenes  and  people,  and  was  afraid 
I  should  ultimately  do  so  in  any  case,  whatever  course 
I  might  prescribe  to  myself  at  starting.  My  views 
being  deferred  to,  I  thought  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
wrote  the  first  number ;  from  the  proof  sheets  of  which 
MR.  SEYMOUR  made  his  drawing  of  the  Club,  and  his 
happy  portrait  of  its  founder: — the  latter  on  MR. 
EDWARD  CHAPMAN'S  description  of  the  dress  and 
bearing  of  a  real  personage  whom  he  had  often  seen. 
I  connected  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  club,  because  of 
the  original  suggestion,  and  I  put  in  Mr.  Winkle 
expressly  for  the  use  of  MR.  SEYMOUR.  We  started 
with  a  number  of  twenty-four  pages  instead  of  thirty- 
two,  and  four  illustrations  in  lieu  of  a  couple.  MR. 
SEYMOUR'S  sudden  and  lamented  death  before  the 
second  number  was  published,  brought  about  a  quick 
decision  upon  a  point  already  in  agitation;  the  num- 
ber became  one  of  thirty-two  pages  with  only  two 
illustrations,  and  remained  so  to  the  end. 

It  is  with  great  unwillingness  that  I  notice  some 
intangible  and  incoherent  assertions  which  have  been 
made,  professedly  on  behalf  of  MR.  SEYMOUR,  to  the 
effect  that  he  had  some  share  in  the  invention  of  this 
book,  or  of  anything  in  it,  not  faithfully  described  in 
the  foregoing  paragraph.  With  the  moderation  that 
is  due  equally  to  my  respect  for  the  memory  of  a 
brother-artist,  and  to  my  self-respect,  I  confine  my- 
self to  placing  on  record  here  the  facts : 

That,  MR.  SEYMOUR  never  originated  or  suggested 
an  incident,  a  phrase,  or  a  word,  to  be  found  in  this 
book.  That,  MR.  SEYMOUR  died  when  only  twenty- 
four  pages  of  this  book  were  published,  and  when 
assuredly  not  forty-eight  were  written.  That,  I  be- 
lieve I  never  saw  MR.  SEYMOUR'S  hand-writing  in  my 
life.  That,  I  never  saw  MR.  SEYMOUR  but  once  in 


xxiv          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

my  life,  and  that  was  on  the  night  but  one  before  his 
death,  when  he  certainly  offered  no  suggestion  what- 
soever. That  I  saw  him  then  in  the  presence  of  two 
persons,  both  living,  perfectly  acquainted  with  all 
these  facts,  and  whose  written  testimony  to  them  I 
possess.  Lastly,  that  MR.  EDWARD  CHAPMAN  (the 
survivor  of  the  original  firm  of  CHAPMAN  and  HALL) 
has  set  down  in  writing,  for  similar  preservation,  his 
personal  knowledge  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  this 
book,  of  the  monstrosity  of  the  baseless  assertions  in 
question,  and  (tested  by  details)  even  of  the  self- 
evident  impossibility  of  there  being  any  truth  in  them. 
In  the  exercise  of  the  forbearance  on  which  I  have 
resolved,  I  do  not  quote  MR.  EDWARD  CHAPMAN'S 
account  of  his  deceased  partner's  reception,  on  a  cer- 
tain occasion,  of  the  pretences  in  question. 

'Boz,'  my  signature  in  the  Morning  Chronicle,  and 
in  the  old  Monthly  Magazine,  appended  to  the  month- 
ly cover  of  this  book,  and  retained  long  afterwards, 
was  the  nickname  of  a  pet  child,  a  younger  brother, 
whom  I  had  dubbed  Moses,  in  honour  of  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield;  which  being  facetiously  pronounced 
through  the  nose,  became  Boses,  and  being  shortened, 
became  Boz.  Boz  was  a  very  familiar  household  word 
to  me,  long  before  I  was  an  author,  and  so  I  came  to 
adopt  it. 

It  has  been  observed  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  that  there  is 
a  decided  change  in  his  character,  as  these  pages  pro- 
ceed, and  that  he  becomes  more  good  and  more  sensi- 
ble. I  do  not  think  this  change  will  appear  forced 
or  unnatural  to  my  readers,  if  they  will  reflect  that 
in  real  life  the  peculiarities  and  oddities  of  a  man  who 
has  anything  whimsical  about  him,  generally  impress 
us  first,  and  that  it  is  not  until  we  are  better  acquainted 
with  him  that  we  usually  begin  to  look  below  these 
superficial  traits,  and  to  know  the  better  part  of  him. 


PREFACES 


XXV 


Lest  there  should  be  any  well-intentioned  persons 
who  do  not  perceive  the  difference  (as  some  such  could 
not,  when  OLD  MORTALITY  was  newly  published),  be- 
tween religion  and  the  cant  of  religion,  piety  and  the 
pretence  of  piety,  a  humble  reverence  for  the  great 
truths  of  Scripture  and  an  audacious  and  offensive 
obstrusion  of  its  letter  and  not  its  spirit  in  the  com- 
monest dissensions  and  meanest  affairs  of  life,  to  the 
extraordinary  confusion  of  ignorant  minds,  let  them 
understand  that  it  is  always  the  latter,  and  never  the 
former,  which  is  satirised  here.  Further,  that  the  lat- 
ter is  here  satirised  as  being,  according  to  all  ex- 
perience, inconsistent  with  the  former,  impossible  of 
union  with  it,  and  one  of  the  most  evil  and  mischievous 
falsehoods  existent  in  society — whether  it  establish  its 
head-quarters,  for  the  time  being,  in  Exeter  Hall,  or 
Ebenezer  Chapel,  or  both.  It  may  appear  unneces- 
sary to  offer  a  word  of  observation  on  so  plain  a 
head.  But  it  is  never  out  of  season  to  protest  against 
that  coarse  familiarity  with  sacred  things  which  is  busy 
on  the  lip,  and  idle  in  the  heart;  or  against  the  con- 
founding of  Christianity  with  any  class  of  persons 
who,  in  the  words  of  SWIFT,  have  just  enough  religion 
to  make  them  hate,  and  not  enough  to  make  them  love, 
one  another. 

I  have  found  it  curious  and  interesting,  looking 
over  the  sheets  of  this  reprint,  to  mark  what  important 
social  improvements  have  taken  place  about  us,  al- 
most imperceptibly,  since  they  were  originally  writ- 
ten. The  licence  of  Counsel,  and  the  degree  to  which 
Juries  are  ingeniously  bewildered,  are  yet  susceptible 
to  moderation ;  while  an  improvement  in  the  mode  of 
conducting  Parliamentary  Elections  (and  even  Par- 
liaments too,  perhaps)  is  still  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility.  But  legal  reforms  have  pared  the  claws 
of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg;  a  spirit  of  self-respect, 


xxvi          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

mutual  forbearance,  education,  and  co-operation  for 
such  good  ends,  has  diffused  itself  among  their  clerks ; 
places  far  apart  are  brought  together,  to  the  present 
convenience  and  advantage  of  the  Public,  and  to  the 
certain  destruction,  in  time,  of  a  host  of  pretty  jeal- 
ousies, blindnesses,  and  prejudices,  by  which  the  Pub- 
lic alone  have  always  been  the  sufferers;  the  laws  re- 
lating to  imprisonment  for  debt  are  altered;  and  the 
Fleet  Prison  is  pulled  down ! 

Who  knows,  but  by  the  time  the  series  reaches  its 
conclusion,  it  may  be  discovered  that  there  are  even 
magistrates  in  town  and  country,  who  should  be  taught 
to  shake  hands  every  day  with  Common-sense  and 
Justice ;  that  even  Poor  Laws  may  have  mercy  on  the 
weak,  the  aged,  and  unfortunate ;  that  Schools,  on  the 
broad  principles  of  Christianity,  are  the  best  adorn- 
ment for  the  length  and  breadth  of  this  civilised  land ; 
that  Prison-doors  should  be  barred  on  the  outside,  no 
less  heavily  and  carefully  than  they  are  barred  with- 
in; that  the  universal  diffusion  of  common  means  of 
decency  and  health  is  as  much  the  right  of  the  poorest 
of  the  poor,  as  it  is  indispensable  to  the  safety  of  the 
rich,  and  of  the  State;  that  a  few  petty  boards  and 
bodies — less  than  drops  in  the  great  ocean  of  human- 
ity, which  roars  around  them — are  not  for  ever  to  let 
loose  Fever  and  Consumption  on  God's  creatures  at 
their  will,  or  always  to  keep  their  jobbing  little  fiddles 
going,  for  a  Dance  of  Death. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

i.  The  Pickwickians 1 

ii.  The  first  Day's  Journey,  and  the  first 
Evening's  Adventures ;  with  their  Con- 
sequences   7 

in.  A  new  Acquaintance.  The  Stroller's 
Tale.  A  disagreeable  Interruption, 
and  an  unpleasant  Encounter  ...  43 

iv.  A  Field-day  and  Bivouac.  More  new 
Friends.  An  Invitation  to  the  Coun- 
try   58 

v.  A  short  one.  Showing,  among  other 
Matters,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  undertook 
to  drive,  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  ride ;  and 
how  they  both  did  it 74 

VI.  An  old-fashioned  Card-party.  The 
Clergyman's  Verses.  The  Story  of 
the  Convict's  Return 88 

vn.  How  Mr.  Winkle,  instead  of  shooting  at 
the  Pigeon  and  killing  the  Crow,  shot 

at  the  Crow  and  wounded  the  Pigeon; 
xxvii 


xxviii       THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

how  the  Dingley  Dell  Cricket  Club 
played  All-Muggieton,  and  how  All- 
Muggleton  dined  at  the  Dingley  Dell 
expense :  with  other  interesting  and  in- 
structive Matters 108 

VIII.  Strongly  illustrative  of  the  Position,  that 
the  Course  of  True  Love  is  not  a  Rail- 
way  127 

ix.  A  Discovery  and  a  Chase       .      .      .      .144 
x.  Clearing  up  all  Doubts  (if  any  existed) 
of  the  Disinterestedness  of  Mr.  Jin- 
gle's Character .156 

xi.  Involving  another  Journey,  and  an  Anti- 
quarian Discovery.  Recording  Mr. 
Pickwick's  Determination  to  be  pres- 
ent at  an  Election;  and  containing  a 
Manuscript  of  the  old  Clergyman's  .  175 

xn.  Descriptive  of  a  very  important  Proceed- 
ing on  the  Part  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  no 
less  an  Epoch  in  his  Life,  than  in  this 
History 199 

xiii.  Some  Account   of   Eatanswill;   of   the 
State  of  Parties  therein;  and  of  the 


CONTENTS  xxix 

CHAP.  PAGE 

Election  of  a  Member  to  serve  in  Par- 
liament for  that  ancient,  loyal,  and  pa- 
triotic Borough 207 

xiv.  Comprising  a  brief  Description  of  the 
Company  at  the  Peacock  assembled; 
and  a  Tale  told  by  a  Bagman  .  .  .  232 
xv.  In  which  is  given  a  faithful  Portraiture 
of  two  distinguished  Persons;  and  an 
accurate  Description  of  a  Public 
Breakfast  in  their  House  and 
Grounds:  which  Public  Breakfast 
leads  to  the  Recognition  of  an  old  Ac- 
quaintance, and  the  commencement  of 
another  Chapter 255 

xvi.  Too  full  of  Adventure  to  be  briefly  de- 
scribed      274 

Xvii.  Showing  that  an  Attack  of  Rheumatism, 
in  some  cases,  acts  as  a  Quickener  to 

Inventive  Genius 299 

xviii.  Briefly  illustrative  of  two  Points ; — first, 
the  Power  of  Hysterics,  and,  secondly, 
the  Force  of  Circumstances  .  .  .311 

xix.  A   pleasant   Day,   with   an   unpleasant 

Termination 325 


xxx  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


PAGE 


xx.  Showing  how  Dodson  and  Fogg  were 
Men  of  Business,  and  their  Clerks  Men 
of  Pleasure ;  and  how  an  affecting  In- 
terview took  place  between  Mr.  Weller 
and  his  long-lost  Parent ;  showing  also 
what  choice  Spirits  assembled  at  the 
Magpie  and  Stump,  and  what  a  capi- 
tal Chapter  the  next  one  will  be  .  .  343 

xxi.  In  which  the  Old  Man  launches  forth 
into  his  favourite  Theme,  and  relates  a 
Story  about  a  queer  Client  .  .  .  365 
xxn.  Mr.  Pickwick  journeys  to  Ipswich,  and 
meets  with  a  romantic  Adventure  with 
a  middle-aged  Lady  in  Yellow  Curl 

Papers 389 

xxin.  In  which  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  begins  to 
devote  his  Energies  to  the  Return 
Match  between  himself  and  Mr.  Trot- 
ter   411 

xxiv.  Wherein  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  grows  jeal- 
ous, and  the  middle-aged  Lady  appre- 
hensive, which  brings  the  Pickwickians 
within  the  grasp  of  the  Law  .  .  .  422 

xxv.  Showing,  among  a  variety  of  pleasant 


CONTENTS  xxxl 

CHAP.  PAGE 

Matters,  how  majestic  and  impartial 
Mr.  Nupkins  was;  and  how  Mr. 
Weller  returned  Mr.  Job  Trotter's 
Shuttlecock  as  heavily  as  it  came. 
With  another  Matter,  which  will  be 

found  in  its  Place 444 

xxvi.  Which  contains  a  brief  Account  of  the 
Progress  of  the  Action  of  Bardell 
against  Pickwick 46£ 

xxvu.  Samuel  Weller  makes  a  Pilgrimage  to 
Dorking,  and  beholds  his  Mother-in- 
law  478 

xxvin.  A  good-humoured  Christmas  Chapter, 
containing  an  Account  of  a  Wedding, 
and  some  other  Sports  beside:  which 
although  in  their  Way,  even  as  good 
Customs  as  Marriage  itself,  are  not 
quite  so  religiously  kept  up,  in  these 

degenerate  Times 491 

xxix.  The  Story  of  the  Goblins  who  stole  a 

Sexton  ...   520 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece phiz 

FACIXQ  PACT 

The  Sagacious  Dog  .   R.  Seymour       .     16 

Dr.  Slammer's  Defiance  of  Jingle  .      .     28 

Winkle    soothes   the   Refractory 

Mare .      .     80 

The  Fat  Boy  Awake  ....       Phiz       .      .   128 

Mrs.  Bar  dell  faints  in  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's Arms - .  .  202 

The  Unexpected  "Breaking-Up" 
of  the  Seminary  for  Young 
Ladies "  *  .  296 

Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  Pound  .      .         "         .      .   342 

The  Middle- Aged  Lady  in  the 

Double-Bedded  Room  ...         "         .      .   406 

The  Goblin  and  the  Sexton  .      .         "         ,     .  528 

PICKWICK   PAPERS.      PAHT   I 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   PICKWICKIANS 

THE  first  ray  of  light  which  illumines  the  gloom,  and 
converts  into  a  dazzling  brilliancy  that  obscurity  in 
which  the  earlier  history  of  the  public  career  of  the 
immortal  Pickwick  would  appear  to  be  involved,  is 
derived  from  the  perusal  of  the  following  entry  in 
the  Transactions  of  the  Pickwick  Club,  which  the 
editor  of  these  papers  feels  the  highest  pleasure  in 
laying  before  his  readers,  as  a  proof  of  the  careful 
attention,  indefatigable  assiduity,  and  nice  discrimi- 
nation, with  which  his  search  among  the  multifari- 
ous documents  confided  to  him  has  been  conducted. 

'May  12,  1827.  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  P.V.P. 
M.P.C.,1  presiding.  The  following  resolutions 
unanimously  agreed  to: — 

'That  this  Association  has  heard  read,  with  feelings 
of  unmingled  satisfaction,  and  unqualified  approval, 
the  paper  communicated  by  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq., 
G.C.M.P.C.,2  entitled  "Speculations  on  the  Source 
of  the  Hampstead  Ponds,  with  some  Observations  on 
the  Theory  of  Tittlebats";  and  that  this  Association 
does  hereby  return  its  warmest  thanks  to  the  said 
Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.M.P.C.,  for  the  same. 

1  Perpetual  Vice-President—Member  Pickwick  Club. 

2  General  Chairman— Member  Pickwick  Club. 

1 


2  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'That  while  this  Association  is  deeply  sensible  of  the 
advantages  which  must  accrue  to  the  cause  of  science 
from  the  production  to  which  they  have  just  adverted, 
— no  less  than  from  the  unwearied  researches  of 
Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.M.P.C.,  in  Hornsey, 
Highgate,  Brixton,  and  Camberwell, — they  cannot 
but  entertain  a  lively  sense  of  the  inestimable  benefits 
which  must  inevitably  result  from  carrying  the  specu- 
lations of  that  learned  man  into  a  wider  field,  from  ex- 
tending his  travels,  and  consequently  enlarging  his 
sphere  of  observation,  to  the  advancement  of  knowl- 
edge, and  the  diffusion  of  learning. 

'That,  with  the  view  just  mentioned,  this  Associ- 
ation has  taken  into  its  serious  consideration  a  propos- 
al, emanating  from  the  aforesaid  Samuel  Pickwick, 
Esq.,  G.C.M.P.C.,  and  three  other  Pickwickians  here- 
inafter named,  for  forming  a  new  branch  of  United 
Pickwickians,  under  the  title  of  The  Corresponding 
Society  of  the  Pickwick  Club. 

'That  the  said  proposal  has  received  the  sanction 
and  approval  of  this  Association. 

'That  the  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick 
Club  is  therefore  hereby  constituted;  and  that  Samuel 
Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.M.P.C.,  Tracy  Tupman,  Esq., 
M.P.C.,  Augustus  Snodgrass,  Esq.,  M.P.C.,  and 
Nathaniel  Winkle,  Esq.,  M.P.C.,  are  hereby  nomi- 
nated and  appointed  members  of  the  same;  and  that 
they  be  requested  to  forward,  from  time  to  time,  au- 
thenticated accounts  of  their  journeys  and  investiga- 
tions, of  their  observations  of  character  and  manners, 
and  of  the  whole  of  their  adventures,  together  with 
all  tales  and  papers  to  which  local  scenery  or  associ- 
ations may  give  rise,  to  the  Pickwick  Club,  stationed 
in  London. 

'That  this  Association  cordially  recognises  the  prin- 
ciple of  every  member  of  the  Corresponding  Society 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  3 

defraying  his  own  travelling  expenses ;  and  that  it  sees 
no  objection  whatever  to  the  members  of  the  said  so- 
ciety pursuing  their  inquiries  for  any  length  of  time 
they  please,  upon  the  same  terms. 

'That  the  members  of  the  aforesaid  Corresponding 
Society  be,  and  are,  hereby  informed,  that  their  pro- 
posal to  pay  the  postage  of  their  letters,  and  the  car- 
riage of  their  parcels,  has  been  deliberated  upon  by 
this  Association:  that  this  Association  considers  such 
proposal  worthy  of  the  great  minds  from  which  it 
emanated,  and  that  it  hereby  signifies  its  perfect  ac- 
quiescence therein.' 

A  casual  observer,  adds  the  secretary,  to  whose 
notes  we  are  indebted  for  the  following  account — a 
casual  observer  might  possibly  have  remarked  noth- 
ing extraordinary  in  the  bald  head,  and  circular  spec- 
tacles, which  were  intently  turned  towards  his  (the 
secretary's)  face,  during  the  reading  of  the  above 
resolutions :  to  those  who  knew  that  the  gigantic  brain 
of  Pickwick  was  working  beneath  that  forehead,  and 
that  the  beaming  eyes  of  Pickwick  were  twinkling 
behind  those  glasses,  the  sight  was  indeed  an  interest- 
ing one.  There  sat  the  man  who  had  traced  to  their 
source  the  mighty  ponds  of  Hampstead,  and  agitated 
the  scientific  world  with  his  Theory  of  Tittlebats,  as 
calm  and  unmoved  as  the  deep  waters  of  the  one  on 
a  frosty  day,  or  as  a  solitary  specimen  of  the  other 
in  the  inmost  recesses  of  an  earthen  jar.  And  how 
much  more  interesting  did  the  spectacle  become  when, 
starting  into  full  life  and  animation,  as  a  simultane- 
ous call  for  'Pickwick'  burst  from  his  followers,  that 
illustrious  man  slowly  mounted  into  the  Windsor 
chair,  on  which  he  had  been  previously  seated,  and 
addressed  the  club  himself  had  founded.  What  a 
study  for  an  artist  did  that  exciting  scene  present! 
The  Eloquent  Pickwick,  with  one  hand  gracefully  con- 


4  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

cealed  behind  his  coat  tails,  and  the  other  waving  in 
air,  to  assist  his  glowing  declamation;  his  elevated 
position  revealing  those  tights  and  gaiters,  which,  had 
they  clothed  an  ordinary  man,  might  have  passed  with- 
out observation,  but  which,  when  Pickwick  clothed 
them — if  we  may  use  the  expression — inspired  volun- 
tary awe  and  respect ;  surrounded  by  the  men  who  had 
volunteered  to  share  the  perils  of  his  travels,  and  who 
were  destined  to  participate  in  the  glories  of  his  dis- 
coveries. On  his  right  hand  sat  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman 
- — the  too  susceptible  Tupman,  who  to  the  wisdom  and 
experience  of  maturer  years  superadded  the  enthusi- 
asm and  ardour  of  a  boy,  in  the  most  interesting  and 
pardonable  of  human  weaknesses — love.  Time  and 
feeding  had  expanded  that  once  romantic  form;  the 
black  silk  waistcoat  had  become  more  and  more  de- 
veloped; inch  by  inch  had  the  gold  watch-chain  be- 
neath it  disappeared  from  within  the  range  of  Tup- 
man's  vision;  and  gradually  had  the  capacious  chin 
encroached  upon  the  borders  of  the  white  cravat:  but 
the  soul  of  Tupman  had  known  no  change — admira- 
tion of  the  fair  sex  was  still  its  ruling  passion.  On 
the  left  of  his  great  leader  sat  the  poetic  Snodgrass, 
and  near  him  again  the  sporting  Winkle,  the  former 
poetically  enveloped  in  a  mysterious  blue  cloak  with 
a  canine-skin  collar,  and  the  latter  communicating  ad- 
ditional lustre  to  a  new  green  shooting  coat,  plaid 
neckerchief,  and  closely-fitted  drabs. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  oration  upon  this  occasion,  together 
with  the  debate  thereon,  is  entered  on  the  Transactions 
of  the  Club.  Both  bear  a  strong  affinity  to  the  discus- 
sions of  other  celebrated  bodies;  and,  as  it  is  always 
interesting  to  trace  a  resemblance  between  the  pro- 
ceedings of  great  men,  we  transfer  the  entry  to  these 
pages. 

'Mr.  Pickwick  observed  (says  the  Secretary)  that 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  5 

fame  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  every  man.  Poetic 
fame  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  his  friend  Snodgrass; 
the  fame  of  conquest  was  equally  dear  to  his  friend 
Tupman ;  and  the  desire  of  earning  fame  in  the  sports 
of  the  field,  the  air,  and  the  water,  was  uppermost  in 
the  breast  of  his  friend  Winkle.  He  (Mr.  Pickwick) 
would  not  deny  that  he  was  influenced  by  human 
passions,  and  human  feelings  (cheers) — possibly  by 
human  weaknesses — (loud  cries  of  "No")  ;  but  this  he 
would  say,  that  if  ever  the  fire  of  self-importance 
broke  out  in  his  bosom,  the  desire  to  benefit  the  human 
race  in  preference  effectually  quenched  it.  The  praise 
of  mankind  was  his  Swing;  philanthropy  was  his  in- 
surance office.  (Vehement  cheering.)  He  had  felt 
some  pride — he  acknowledged  it  freely,  and  let  his 
enemies  make  the  most  of  it — he  had  felt  some  pride 
when  he  presented  his  Tittlebatian  Theory  to  the 
world;  it  might  be  celebrated  or  it  might  not.  (A 
cry  of  ''It  is,"  and  great  cheering.)  He  would  take 
the  assertion  of  that  honourable  Pickwickian  whose 
voice  he  had  just  heard — it  was  celebrated;  but  if  the 
fame  of  that  treatise  were  to  extend  to  the  furthest 
confines  of  the  known  world,  the  pride  with  which  he 
should  reflect  on  the  authorship  of  that  production 
would  be  as  nothing  compared  with  the  pride  with 
which  he  looked  around  him,  on  this,  the  proudest  mo- 
ment of  his  existence.  (Cheers.)  He  was  a  humble 
individual.  ("No,  no.")  Still  he  could  not  but  feel 
that  they  had  selected  him  for  a  service  of  great 
honour,  and  of  some  danger.  Travelling  was  in  a 
troubled  state,  and  the  minds  of  coachmen  were  un- 
settled. Let  them  look  abroad,  and  contemplate  the 
scenes  which  were  enacting  around  them.  Stage 
coaches  were  upsetting  in  all  directions,  horses  were 
bolting,  boats  were  overturning,  and  boilers  were 
bursting.  ( Cheers—  a  voice  "No." )  No !  ( Cheers. ) 


6  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Let  that  honourable  Pickwickian  who  cried  "No"  so 
loudly    come    forward    and    deny    it,    if    he    could. 
( Cheers. )      Who  was  it  that  cried  "No" ?      (Enthusi- 
astic cheering.)     Was  it  some  vain  and  disappointed 
man — he  would  not  say  haberdasher — (loud  cheers) 
—who,  jealous  of  the  praise  which  had  been — per- 
haps undeservedly — bestowed  on  his  (Mr.  Pickwick's) 
researches,  and  smarting  under  the  censure  which  had 
been  heaped  upon  his  own  feeble  attempts  at  rivalry, 
now  took  this  vile  and  calumnious  mode  of — 

'Mr.  BLOTTON  (of  Aldgate)  rose  to  order.  Did 
the  honourable  Pickwickian  allude  to  him?  (Cries 
of  "Order,"  "Chair,"  "Yes,"  "No,"  "Go  on,"  "Leave 
off,"  etc.) 

'Mr.  PICKWICK  would  not  put  up  to  be  put  down 
by  clamour.  He  had  alluded  to  the  honourable 
gentleman.  (Great  excitement.) 

'Mr.  BLOTTON  would  only  say  then,  that  he  repelled 
the  hon.  gent.'s  false  and  scurrilous  accusation,  with 
profound  contempt.  (Great  cheering.)  Then  hon. 
gent,  was  a  humbug.  ( Immense  confusion,  and  loud 
cries  of  "Chair"  and  "Order.") 

'Mr  A.  SNODGRASS  rose  to  order.  He  threw  himself 
upon  the  chair.  (Hear.)  He  wished  to  know 
whether  this  disgraceful  contest  between  two  mem- 
bers of  that  club  should  be  allowed  to  continue. 
(Hear,  hear.) 

'The  CHAIRMAN  was  quite  sure  the  hon.  Pickwick- 
ian would  withdraw  the  expression  he  had  just  made 
use  of. 

'Mr.  BLOTTON.,  with  all  possible  respect  for  the 
chair,  was  quite  sure  he  would  not. 

'The  CHAIRMAN  felt  it  his  imperative  duty  to  de- 
mand of  the  honourable  gentleman,  whether  he  had 
used  the  expression  which  had  just  escaped  him  in  q 
common  sense. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  7 

'Mr.  BLOTTON  had  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  he 
had  not — he  had  used  the  word  in  its  Pickwickian 
sense.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  was  bound  to  acknowl- 
edge that,  personally,  he  entertained  the  highest  re- 
gard and  esteem  for  the  honourable  gentleman ;  he  had 
merely  considered  him  a  humbug  in  a  Pickwickian 
point  of  view.  ( Hear,  hear. ) 

'Mr.  PICKWICK  felt  much  gratified  by  the  fair,  can- 
did, and  full  explanation  of  his  honourable  friend. 
He  begged  it  to  be  at  once  understood,  that  his  own 
observations  had  been  merely  intended  to  bear  a  Pick- 
wickian construction.  ( Cheers. ) ' 

Here  the  entry  terminates,  as  we  have  no  doubt  the 
debate  did  also,  after  arriving  at  such  a  highly  satis- 
factory and  intelligible  point.  We  have  no  official 
statement  of  the  facts  which  the  reader  will  find  re- 
corded in  the  next  chapter,  but  they  have  been  care- 
fully collated  from  letters  and  other  MS.  authorities, 
so  unquestionably  genuine  as  to  justify  their  narra- 
tion in  a  connected  form. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FIRST  DAY'S  JOURNEY,  AND  THE  FIRST  EVENING^ 
ADVENTURES;  WITH  THEIR  CONSEQUENCES 

THAT  punctual  servant  of  all  work,  the  sun,  had  just 
risen,  and  begun  to  strike  a  light  on  the  morning  of 
the  thirteenth  of  May,  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
and  twenty-seven,  when  Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick  burst 
like  another  sun  from  his  slumbers,  threw  open  his 
chamber  window,  and  looked  out  upon  the  world  be- 
neath. Goswell  Street  was  at  his  feet,  Goswell  Street 
was  on  his  right  hand — as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
Goswell  Street  extended  on  his  left;  and  the  opposite 


8  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

side  of  Goswell  Street  was  over  the  way.  'Such,' 
thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  'are  the  narrow  views  of  those 
philosophers  who,  content  with  examining  the  things 
that  lie  before  them,  look  not  to  the  truths  which  are 
hidden  beyond.  As  well  might  I  be  content  to  gaze 
on  Goswell  Street  for  ever,  without  one  effort  to  pene- 
trate to  the  hidden  countries  which  on  every  side  sur- 
round it.'  And  having  given  vent  to  this  beautiful 
reflection,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  put  himself 
into  his  clothes,  and  his  clothes  into  his  portmanteau. 
Great  men  are  seldom  over  scrupulous  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  their  attire;  the  operation  of  shaving,  dress- 
ing, and  coffee-imbibing  was  soon  performed:  and  in 
another  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  portmanteau  in 
his  hand,  his  telescope  in  his  great-coat  pocket,  and 
his  note-book  in  his  waistcoat,  ready  for  the  reception 
of  any  discoveries  worthy  of  being  noted  down,  had 
arrived  at  the  coach  stand  in  St.  Martin's-le-Grand. 

'Cab!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Here  you  are,  sir,'  shouted  a  strange  specimen  of 
the  human  race,  in  a  sackcloth  coat,  and  apron  of  the 
same,  who  with  a  brass  label  and  number  round  his 
neck,  looked  as  if  he  were  catalogued  in  some  collec- 
tion of  rarities.  This  was  the  waterman.  'Here 
you  are,  sir.  Now,  then,  fust  cab!'  And  the  first 
cab  having  been  fetched  from  the  public-house,  where 
he  had  been  smoking  his  first  pipe,  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
his  portmanteau  were  thrown  into  the  vehicle. 

'Golden  Cross,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Only  a  bob's  vorth,  Tommy,'  cried  the  driver, 
sulkily,  for  the  information  of  his  friend  the  water- 
man, as  the  cab  drove  off. 

'How  old  is  that  horse,  my  friend?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  rubbing  his  nose  with  the  shilling  he  had  re- 
served for  the  fare. 

'Forty-two,'  replied  the  driver,  eyeing  him  askant. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  9 

'What!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  note-book.  The  driver  reiterated  his  former 
statement.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked  very  hard  at  the 
man's  face,  but  his  features  were  immovable,  so  he 
noted  down  the  fact  forthwith. 

'And  how  long  do  you  keep  him  out  at  a  time?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick,  searching  for  further  informa- 
tion. 

'Two  or  three  veeks,'  replied  the  man. 

'Weeks!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  astonishment — and 
out  came  the  note-book  again. 

'He  lives  at  Pentonwil  when  he  's  at  home,'  observed 
the  driver,  coolly,  'but  we  seldom  takes  him  home  on 
account  of  his  veakness.' 

'On  account  of  his  weakness!'  reiterated  the  per- 
plexed Mr.  Pickwick, 

'He  always  falls  down  when  he  's  took  out  o'  the 
cab,'  continued  the  driver,  'but  when  he  's  in  it,  we 
bears  him  up  werry  tight,  and  takes  him  in  werry 
short,  so  as  he  can't  werry  well  fall  down ;  and  we  Ve 
got  a  pair  o'  precious  large  wheels  on,  so  ven  he  does 
move,  they  run  after  him,  and  he  must  go  on — he  can't 
help  it.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  entered  every  word  of  this  statement 
in  his  note-book,  with  the  view  of  communicating  it  to 
the  club,  as  a  singular  instance  of  the  tenacity  of  life 
in  horses,  under  trying  circumstances.  The  entry 
was  scarcely  completed  when  they  reached  the  Golden 
Cross.  Down  jumped  the  driver,  and  out  got  Mr. 
Pickwick.  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  had  been  anxiously  waiting  the  arrival  of 
their  illustrious  leader,  crowded  to  welcome  him. 

'Here  's  your  fare/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  holding  out 
the  shilling  to  the  driver. 

What  was  the  learned  man's  astonishment,  when 
that  unaccountable  person  flung  the  money  on  the 


10  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

pavement,  and  requested  in  figurative  terms  to  be 
allowed  the  pleasure  of  fighting  him  (Mr.  Pickwick) 
for  the  amount! 

'You  are  mad,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Or  drunk,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Or  both,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Come  onl'  said  the  cab-driver,  sparring  away  like 
clockwork.  'Come  on — all  four  on  you.' 

'Here  's  a  lark !'  shouted  half  a  dozen  hackney  coach- 
men. 'Go  to  vork,  Sam,' — and  they  crowded  with 
great  glee  round  the  party. 

'What 's  the  row,  Sam?'  inquired  one  gentleman  in 
black  calico  sleeves. 

'Row!'  replied  the  cabman,  'what  did  he  want  my 
number  for?' 

'I  didn't  want  your  number/  said  the  astonished  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'What  did  you  take  it  for,  then?'  inquired  the  cab- 
man. 

'I  didn't  take  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  indignantly. 

'Would  any  body  believe,'  continued  the  cab-driver, 
appealing  to  the  crowd,  'would  any  body  believe  as  an 
informer  'ud  go  about  in  a  man's  cab,  not  only  takin' 
down  his  number,  but  ev'ry  word  he  says  into  the  bar- 
gain' (a  light  flashed  upon  Mr.  Pickwick — it  was  the 
note-book) . 

'Did  he,  though?'  inquired  another  cabman. 

'Yes,  did  he,'  replied  the  first;  'and  then  arter  ag- 
gerawatin'  me  to  assault  him,  gets  three  witnesses  here 
to  prove  it.  But  I  '11  give  it  him,  if  I  Ve  six  months 
for  it.  Come  on!'  and  the  cabman  dashed  his  hat 
upon  the  ground,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  his  own 
private  property,  and  knocked  Mr.  Pickwick's  spec- 
tacles off,  and  followed  up  the  attack  with  a  blow  on 
Mr.  Pickwick's  nose,  and  another  on  Mr.  Pickwick's 
chest,  and  a  third  in  Mr.  Snodgrass's  eye,  and  a  fourth, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  11 

by  way  of  variety,  in  Mr.  Tupman's  waistcoat,  and 
then  danced  into  the  road,  and  then  back  again  to  the 
pavement,  and  finally  dashed  the  whole  temporary 
supply  of  breath  out  of  Mr.  Winkle's  body;  and  all 
in  half  a  dozen  seconds. 

'Where  's  an  officer?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Put  'em  under  the  pump/  suggested  a  hot-pieman. 

'You  shall  smart  for  this,'  gasped  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Informers!'  shouted  the  crowd. 

'Come  on,'  cried  the  cabman,  who  had  been  sparring 
without  cessation  the  whole  time. 

The  mob  had  hitherto  been  passive  spectators  of  the 
scene,  but  as  the  intelligence  of  the  Pickwickians  being 
informers  was  spread  among  them,  they  began  to  can- 
vass with  considerable  vivacity  the  propriety  of  en- 
forcing the  heated  pastry-vendor's  proposition;  and 
there  is  no  saying  what  acts  of  personal  aggression 
they  might  have  committed  had  not  the  affray  been 
unexpectedly  terminated  by  the  interposition  of  a  new 
comer. 

'What 's  the  fun?'  said  a  rather  tall  thin  young  man, 
in  a  green  coat,  emerging  suddenly  from  the  coach- 
yard. 

'Informers !'  shouted  the  crowd  again. 

'We  are  not,'  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  tone  which, 
to  any  dispassionate  listener,  carried  conviction  with  it. 

'Ain't  you,  though, — ain't  you?'  said  the  young 
man,  appealing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  making  his  way 
through  the  crowd  by  the  infallible  process  of  elbow- 
ing the  countenances  of  its  component  members. 

That  learned  man  in  a  few  hurried  words  explained 
the  real  state  of  the  case. 

'Come  along,  then,'  said  he  of  the  green  coat,  lug- 
ging Mr.  Pickwick  after  him  by  main  force,  and  talk- 
ing the  whole  way.  'Here,  No.  924,  take  your  fare, 
and  take  yourself  off — respectable  gentleman, — 


12  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

know  him  well — none  of  your  nonsense — this  way,  sir, 
• — where  's  your  friends  ? — all  a  mistake,  I  see  — never 
mind — accidents  will  happen — best  regulated  families 
— never  say  die — down  upon  your  luck — pull  him  up 
— put  that  in  his  pipe — like  the  flavour — damned 
rascals.'  And  with  a  lengthened  string  of  similar 
broken  sentences,  delivered  with  extraordinary  volu- 
bility, the  stranger  led  the  way  to  the  travellers'  wait- 
ing-room, whither  he  was  closely  followed  by  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  disciples. 

'Here,  waiter!'  shouted  the  stranger,  ringing  the 
bell  with  tremendous  violence,  'glasses  round,-— 
brandy-and-water,  hot  and  strong,  and  sweet,  and 
plenty, — eye  damaged,  sir?  Waiter!  raw  beef -steak 
for  the  gentleman's  eye, — nothing  like  raw  beef- 
steak for  a  bruise,  sir;  cold  lamp-post  very  good,  but 
lamp-post  inconvenient — damned  odd  standing  in  the 
open  street  half  an  hour,  with  your  eye  against 
a  lamp-post — eh, — very  good — ha!  ha!'  And  the 
stranger,  without  stopping  to  take  breath,  swallowed 
at  a  draught  full  half  a  pint  of  the  reeking  brandy- 
and-water,  and  flung  himself  into  a  chair  with  as  much 
ease  as  if  nothing  uncommon  had  occurred. 

While  his  three  companions  were  busily  engaged  in 
proffering  their  thanks  to  their  new  acquaintance, 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  examine  his  costume  and 
appearance. 

He  was  about  the  middle  height,  but  the  thinness  of 
his  body,  and  the  length  of  his  legs,  gave  him  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  much  taller.  The  green  coat  had 
been  a  smart  dress  garment  in  the  days  of  swallow- 
tails, but  had  evidently  in  those  times  adorned  a  much 
shorter  man  than  the  stranger,  for  the  soiled  and  faded 
sleeves  scarcely  reached  to  his  wrists.  It  was  buttoned 
closely  up  to  his  chin,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  split- 
ting the  back;  and  an  old  stock,  without  a  vestige 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  18 

of  shirt  collar,  ornamented  his  neck.  His  scanty 
black  trousers  displayed  here  and  there  those  shiny 
patches  which  bespeak  long  service,  and  were  strapped 
very  tightly  over  a  pair  of  patched  and  mended  shoes, 
as  if  to  conceal  the  dirty  white  stockings,  which  were 
nevertheless  distinctly  visible.  His  long  black  hair 
escaped  in  negligent  waves  from  beneath  each  side  of 
his  old  pinched-up  hat ;  and  glimpses  of  his  bare  wrists 
might  be  observed  between  the  tops  of  his  gloves,  and 
the  cuffs  of  his  coat  sleeves.  His  face  was  thin  and 
haggard;  but  an  indescribable  air  of  jaunty  impu- 
dence and  perfect  self-possession  pervaded  the  whole 
man. 

Such  was  the  individual  on  whom  Mr.  Pickwick 
gazed  through  his  spectacles  (which  he  had  fortu- 
nately recovered) ,  and  to  whom  he  proceeded,  when  his 
friends  had  exhausted  themselves,  to  return  in  chosen 
terms  his  warmest  thanks  for  his  recent  assistance. 

'Never  mind,'  said  the  stranger,  cutting  the  address 
very  short,  'said  enough, — no  more;  smart  chap  that 
cabman — handled  his  fives  well;  but  if  I  'd  been  your 
friend  in  the  green  jemmy — damn  me — punch  his 
head, —  'cod  I  would, — pig's  whisper — pieman  too, — 
no  gammon.' 

This  coherent  speech  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance of  the  Rochester  coachman,  to  announce  that 
'The  Commodore'  was  on  the  point  of  starting. 

'Commodore!'  said  the  stranger,  starting  up,  'my 
coach, — place  booked, — one  outside — leave  you  to  pay 
for  the  brandy-and-  water, — want  change  for  a  five,— 
bad  silver — Brummagem  buttons — won't  do — no  go 
—eh?'  and  he  shook  his  head  most  knowingly. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three 
companions  had  resolved  to  make  Rochester  their  first 
halting-place  too;  and  having  intimated  to  their  new- 
found acquaintance  that  they  were  journeying  to  the 


14  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

same  city,  they  agreed  to  occupy  the  seat  at  the  back 
of  the  coach,  where  they  could  all  sit  together. 

'Up  with  you,'  said  the  stranger,  assisting  Mr.  Pick- 
wick on  to  the  roof  with  so  much  precipitation  as  to 
impair  the  gravity  of  that  gentleman's  deportment 
very  materially. 

'Any  luggage,  sir?'  inquired  the  coachman. 

'Who — I  ?  Brown  paper  parcel  here,  that 's  all,— 
other  luggage  gone  by  water, — packing  cases,  nailed 
up — big  as  houses — heavy,  heavy,  damned  heavy,'  re- 
plied the  stranger,  as  he  forced  into  his  pocket  as  much 
as  he  could  of  the  brown  paper  parcel,  which  repre- 
sented most  suspicious  indications  of  containing  one 
shirt  and  a  handkerchief. 

'Heads,  heads — take  care  of  your  heads!'  cried  the 
loquacious  stranger,  as  they  came  out  under  the  low 
archway,  which  in  those  days  formed  the  entrance  to 
the  coach-yard.  'Terrible  place — dangerous  work — 
other  day — five  children — mother — tall  lady,  eating 
sandwiches — forgot  the  arch — crash — knock — chil- 
dren look  round — mother's  head  off — sandwich  in  her 
hand — no  mouth  to  put  it  in — head  of  a  family  off- 
shocking,  shocking!  Looking  at  Whitehall,  sir?— 
fine  place — little  window — somebody  else's  head  off 
there,  eh,  sir  ? — he  didn't  keep  a  sharp  look-out  enough 
either — eh,  sir,  eh?' 

'I  am  ruminating,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'on  the 
strange  mutability  of  human  affairs.' 

'Ah!  I  see — in  at  the  palace  door  one  day,  out  at 
the  window  the  next.  Philosopher,  sir?' 

'An  observer  of  human  nature,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Ah,  so  am  I.  Most  people  are  when  they've  little 
to  do  and  less  to  get.  Poet,  sir?' 

'My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  strong  poetic  turn/ 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  15 

'So  have  I,'  said  the  stranger.  'Epic  poem, — ten 
thousand  lines — revolution  of  July — composed  it  on 
the  spot — Mars  by  day,  Apollo  by  night, — bang  the 
field-piece,  twang  the  lyre.' 

'You  were  present  at  that  glorious  scene,  sir?'  said 
Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Present!  think  I  was;1  fired  a  musket, — fired  with 
an  idea, — rushed  into  wine  shop — wrote  it  down — 
back  again — whiz,  bang — another  idea — wine  shop 
again — pen  and  ink — back  again — cut  and  slash- 
noble  time,  sir.  Sportsman,  sir?'  abruptly  turning  to 
Mr.  Winkle. 

'A  little,  sir,'  replied  that  gentleman. 

'Fine  pursuit,  sir, — fine  pursuit. — Dogs,  sir?' 

'Not  just  now,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Ah!  you  should  keep  dogs — fine  animals — saga- 
cious creatures — dog  of  my  own  once — Pointer — sur- 
prising instinct — out  shooting  one  day — entering  en- 
closure— whistled — dog  stopped — whistled  again — 
Ponto — no  go ;  stock  still — called  him — Ponto,  Ponto 
wouldn't  move — dog  transfixed — staring  at  a  board- 
looked  up,  saw  an  inscription — "Gamekeeper  has  or- 
ders to  shoot  all  dogs  found  in  this  enclosue" — 
wouldn't  pass  it — wonderful  dog — valuable  dog  that 
— very.' 

'Singular  circumstance  that,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'Will  you  allow  me  to  make  a  note  of  it?' 

'Certainly,  sir,  certainly — hundred  more  anecdotes 
of  the  same  animal. — Fine  girl,  sir'  (to  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman,  who  had  been  bestowing  sundry  anti-Pick- 
wickian glances  on  a  young  lady  by  the  roadside) . 

'Very!'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'English  girls  not  so  fine  as  Spanish — noble  crea- 

i  A  remarkable  instance  of  the  prophetic  force  of  Mr.  Jingle's  imag- 
ination; this  dialogue  occurring  in  the  year  1827,  and  the  Revolution  in 
1830. 


16  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tures — jet    hair — black    eyes — lovely    forms — sweei 
creatures — beautiful. ' 

'You  have  been  in  Spain,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman. 

'Lived  there — ages/ 

'Many  conquests,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

Conquests!   Thousands.     Don   Bolaro   Fizzgig — 
Grandee — only  daughter — Donna  Christina — splen- 
did creature — loved  me  to  distraction — jealous  father 
— high-souled    daughter — handsome    Englishman- 
Donna  Christina  in  despair — prussic  acid — stomach 
pump  in  my  portmanteau — operation  performed— 
old  Bolaro  in  ecstasies — consent  to  our  union — join 
hands  and  floods  of  tears — romantic  story — very.' 

'Is  the  lady  in  England  now,  sir?'  inquired  Mr. 
Tupman,  on  whom  the  description  of  her  charms  had 
produced  a  powerful  impression. 

'Dead,  sir — dead,'  said  the  stranger,  applying  to  his 
right  eye  the  brief  remnant  of  a  very  old  cambric 
handkerchief.  'Xever  recovered  the  stomach  pump — 
undermined  constitution — fell  a  victim.' 

'And  her  father?'  inquired  the  poetic  Snodgrass. 

'Remorse  and  misery,'  replied  the  stranger.  'Sud- 
den disappearance — talk  of  the  whole  city — search 
made  everywhere — without  success — public  fountain 
in  the  great  square  suddenly  ceased  playing — weeks 
elapsed — still  a  stoppage — workmen  employed  to 
clean  it — water  drawn  off — father-in-law  discovered 
sticking  head  first  in  the  main  pipe,  with  a  full  con- 
fession in  his  right  boot— took  him  out,  and  the  foun- 
tain played  away  again,  as  well  as  ever.' 

'Will  you  allow  me  to  note  that  little  romance  down, 
sir?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  deeply  affected. 

'Certainly,  sir,  certainly, — fifty  more  if  you  like  to 
hear  'em — strange  life  mine — rather  curious  history — 
not  extraordinary,  but  singular.' 


THE   SAGACIOUS   DOG. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  17 

In  this  strain,  with  an  occasional  glass  of  ale,  by  way 
of  parenthesis,  when  the  coach  changed  horses,  did  the 
stranger  proceed,  until  they  reached  Rochester  bridge, 
by  which  time  the  note-books,  both  of  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  were  completely  filled  with  se- 
lections from  his  adventures. 

'Magnificent  ruin!'  said  Mr.  Augustus  Snodgrass, 
with  all  the  poetic  fervour  that  distinguished  him, 
when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  fine  old  castle. 

'What  a  study  for  an  antiquarian!'  were  the  very 
words  which  fell  from  Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth,  as  he 
applied  his  telescope  to  his  eye. 

'Ah!  fine  place,'  said  the  stranger,  'glorious  pile — 
frowning  walls — tottering  arches — dark  nooks — 
crumbling  staircases — Old  cathedral  too — earthly 
smell — pilgrims'  feet  worn  away  the  old  steps — little 
Saxon  doors — confessionals  like  money-takers'  boxes 
at  theatres — queer  customers  those  monks — Popes,  and 
Lord  Treasurers,  and  all  sorts  of  old  fellows,  with  great 
red  faces,  and  broken  noses,  turning  up  every  day — 
buff  jerkins  too — match-locks — Sarcophagus — fine 
place — old  legends  too — strange  stories :  capital' ;  and  the 
stranger  continued  to  soliloquise  until  they  reached  the 
Bull  Inn,  in  the  High  Street,  where  the  coach  stopped. 

'Do  you  remain  here,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Winkle. 

'Here — not  I — but  you  'd  better — good  house — nice 
beds — Wright's  next  house,  dear — very  dear — half- 
a-crown  in  the  bill  if  you  look  at  the  waiter — charge 
you  more  if  you  dine  at  a  friend's  than  they  would 
if  you  dined  in  the  coffee-room — rum  fellows — very/ 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  murmured 
a  few  words ;  a  whisper  passed  from  Mr.  Pickwick  to 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  from  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  Mr.  Tupman, 
and  nods  of  assent  were  exchanged.  Mr.  Pickwick 
addressed  the  stranger. 


18  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'You  rendered  us  a  very  important  service  this 
morning,  sir,'  said  he;  'will  you  allow  us  to  offer  a 
slight  mark  of  our  gratitude  by  begging  the  favour 
of  your  company  at  dinner?' 

'Great  pleasure — not  presume  to  dictate,  but  broiled 
fowl  and  mushrooms — capital  thing!  what  time?' 

'Let  me  see,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  referring  to 
his  watch,  'it  is  now  nearly  three.  Shall  we  say  five?' 

'Suit  me  excellently,'  said  the  stranger,  'five  pre- 
cisely— till  then — care  of  yourselves' ;  and  lifting  the 
pinched-up  hat  a  few  inches  from  his  head,  and  care- 
lessly replacing  it  very  much  on  one  side,  the  stran- 
ger, with  half  the  brown  paper  parcel  sticking  out 
of  his  pocket,  walked  briskly  up  the  yard,  and  turned 
into  the  High  Street. 

'Evidently  a  traveller  in  many  countries,  and  a 
close  observer  of  men  and  things,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  should  like  to  see  his  poem,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  dog,'  said  Mr. 
Winkle. 

Mr.  Tupman  said  nothing ;  but  he  thought  of  Don- 
na Christina,  the  stomach  pump,  and  the  fountain; 
and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

A  private  sitting-room  having  been  engaged,  bed- 
rooms inspected,  and  dinner  ordered,  the  party  walked 
out  to  view  the  city  and  adjoining  neighbourhood. 

We  do  not  find,  from  a  careful  perusal  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's notes  on  the  four  towns,  Stroud,  Rochester, 
Chatham,  and  Brompton,  that  his  impressions  of  their 
appearance  differ  in  any  material  point  from  those 
of  other  travellers  who  have  gone  over  the  same 
ground.  His  general  description  is  easily  abridged. 

'The  principal  productions  of  these  towns,'  says  Mr. 
Pickwick,  'appear  to  be  soldiers,  sailors,  Jews,  chalk, 
shrimps,  officers,  and  dockyard  men.  The  commod- 
ities chiefly  exposed  for  sale  in  the  public  streets 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  19 

are  marine  stores,  hard-bake,  apples,  flat-fish,  and  oys- 
ters. The  streets  present  a  lively  and  animated  ap- 
pearance, occasioned  chiefly  by  the  conviviality  of 
the  military.  It  is  truly  delightful  to  a  philanthropic 
mind,  to  see  these  gallant  men  staggering  along  under 
the  influence  of  an  overflow,  both  of  animal  and 
ardent  spirits ;  more  especially  when  we  remember  that 
the  following  them  about,  and  jesting  with  them,  af- 
fords a  cheap  and  innocent  amusement  for  the  boy 
population.  Nothing  (adds  Mr.  Pickwick)  can  ex- 
ceed their  good  humour.  It  was  but  the  day  before 
my  arrival  that  one  of  them  had  been  most  grossly 
insulted  in  the  house  of  a  publican.  The  bar-maid 
had  positively  refused  to  draw  him  any  more  liquor; 
in  return  for  which  he  had  (merely  in  playfulness) 
drawn  his  bayonet,  and  wounded  the  girl  in  the 
shoulder.  And  yet  this  fine  fellow  was  the  very  first 
to  go  down  to  the  house  next  morning,  and  express  his 
readiness  to  overlook  the  matter,  and  forget  what  had 
occurred. 

'The  consumption  of  tobacco  in  these  towns  (con- 
tinues Mr.  Pickwick)  must  be  very  great:  and  the 
smell  which  pervades  the  streets  must  be  exceedingly 
delicious  to  those  who  are  extremely  fond  of  smok- 
ing. A  superficial  traveller  might  object  to  the  dirt 
wrhich  is  their  leading  characteristic;  but  to  those  who 
view  it  as  an  indication  of  traffic  and  commercial  pros- 
perity, it  is  truly  gratifying.' 

Punctual  to  five  o'clock  came  the  stranger,  and 
shortly  afterwards  the  dinner.  He  had  divested  him- 
self of  his  brown  paper  parcel,  but  had  made  no  altera- 
tion in  his  attire;  and  was,  if  possible,  more  loquacious 
than  ever. 

'What's  that?'  he  inquired,  as  the  waiter  removed 
one  of  the  covers. 

'Soles,  sir.' 


20  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Soles — ah! — capital  fish — all  come  from  London — 
stage-coach  proprietors  get  up  political  dinners — car- 
riage of  soles — dozens  of  baskets — cunning  fellows. 
Glass  of  wine,  sir?' 

'With  pleasure,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  the  stran- 
ger took  wine,  first  with  him,  and  then  with  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  and  then  with  Mr.  Tupman,  and  then  with 
Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  with  the  whole  party  together, 
almost  as  rapidly  as  he  talked. 

'Devil  of  a  mess  on  the  staircase,  waiter,'  said  the 
stranger.  'Forms  going  up — carpenters  coming 
down — lamps,  glasses,  harps.  What's  going  for- 
ward ?' 

'Ball,  sir,'  said  the  waiter. 

'Assembly,  eh?' 

'No,  sir,  not  Assembly,  sir.  Ball  for  the  benefit  of 
a  charity,  sir.' 

'Many  fine  women  in  this  town,  do  you  know,  sir?' 
inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  with  great  interest. 

'Splendid — capital.  Kent,  sir — everybody  knows 
Kent — apples,  cherries,  hops,  and  women.  Glass  of 
wine,  sir?' 

'With  great  pleasure,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  The 
stranger  filled,  and  emptied. 

'I  should  very  much  like  to  go,'  said  Tupman,  re- 
suming the  subject  of  the  ball,  'very  much.' 

'Tickets  at  the  bar,  sir,'  interposed  the  waiter ;  'half  - 
a-guinea  each,  sir.' 

Mr.  Tupman  again  expressed  an  earnest  wish  to 
be  present  at  the  festivity;  but  meeting  with  no  re- 
sponse in  the  darkened  eye  of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  or  the 
abstracted  gaze  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  applied  himself 
with  great  interest  to  the  port  wine  and  dessert,  which 
had  just  been  placed  on  the  table.  The  waiter  with- 
drew, and  the  party  were  left  to  enjoy  the  cosy  couple 
of  hours  succeeding  dinner. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  21 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  the  stranger,  'bottle 
stands — pass  it  round — way  of  the  sun — through  the 
buttonhole — no  heeltaps,'  and  he  emptied  his  glass, 
which  he  had  filled  about  two  minutes  before,  and 
poured  out  another,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was 
used  to  it. 

The  wine  was  passed,  and  a  fresh  supply  ordered. 
The  visitor  talked,  the  Pickwickians  listened.  Mr. 
Tupman  felt  every  moment  more  disposed  for  the 
ball.  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  glowed  with  an 
expression  of  universal  philanthropy ;  and  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass  fell  fast  asleep. 

'They  're  beginning  upstairs,'  said  the  stranger— 
'hear  the  company — fiddles  tuning — now  the  harp 
— there  they  go.'  The  various  sounds  which  found 
their  way  downstairs  announced  the  commencement 
of  the  first  quadrille. 

'How  I  should  like  to  go,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  again. 

'So  should  I,'  said  the  stranger, — 'confounded  lug- 
gage— heavy  smacks — nothing  to  go  in — odd,  an't  it?' 

Now  general  benevolence  was  one  of  the  leading 
features  of  the  Pickwickian  theory,  and  no  one  was 
more  remarkable  for  the  zealous  manner  in  which  he 
observed  so  noble  a  principle  than  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 
The  number  of  instances,  recorded  on  the  Transac- 
tions of  the  Society,  in  which  that  excellent  man  re- 
ferred objects  of  charity  to  the  houses  of  other  mem- 
bers for  left-off  garments  or  pecuniary  relief  is 
almost  incredible. 

'I  should  be  very  happy  to  lend  you  a  change  of 
apparel  for  the  purpose,'  said  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman, 
'but  you  are  rather  slim,  and  I  am — ' 

'Rather  fat — grown  up  Bacchus — cut  the  leaves- 
dismounted  from  the  tub,  and  adopted  kersey,  eh? 
— not  double  distilled,  but  double  milled — ha!  ha!  pass 
the  wine.' 


22  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was  somewhat  indignant  at 
the  peremptory  tone  in  which  he  was  desired  to  pass 
the  wine  which  the  stranger  passed  so  quickly  away; 
or  whether  he  felt  very  properly  scandalised,  at  an 
influential  member  of  the  Pickwick  club  being  igno- 
miniously  compared  to  a  dismounted  Bacchus,  is  a 
fact  not  yet  completely  ascertained.  He  passed  the 
wine,  coughed  twice,  and  looked  at  the  stranger  for 
several  seconds  with  a  stern  intensity;  as  that  indi- 
vidual, however,  appeared  perfectly  collected,  and 
quite  calm  under  his  searching  glance,  he  gradually 
relaxed,  and  reverted  to  the  subject  of  the  ball. 

'I  was  about  to  observe,  sir,'  he  said,  'that  though 
my  apparel  would  be  too  large,  a  suit  of  my  friend 
Mr.  Winkle's  would  perhaps  fit  you  better.' 

The  stranger  took  Mr.  Winkle's  measure  with  his 
eye;  and  that  feature  glistened  with  satisfaction  as 
he  said — 'just  the  thing.' 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round  him.  The  wine,  which 
had  exerted  its  somniferous  influence  over  Mr.  S  nod- 
grass  and  Mr.  Winkle,  had  stolen  upon  the  senses  of 
Mr.  Pickwick.  That  gentleman  had  gradually 
passed  through  the  various  stages  which  precede  the 
lethargy  produced  by  dinner,  and  its  consequences. 
He  had  undergone  the  ordinary  transitions  from  the 
height  of  conviviality  to  the  depth  of  misery,  and  from 
the  depth  of  misery  to  the  height  of  conviviality. 
Like  a  gas  lamp  in  the  street,  with  the  wind  in  the 
pipe,  he  had  exhibited  for  a  moment  an  unnatural 
brilliancy:  then  sunk  so  low  as  to  be  scarcely  discerni- 
bfe:  after  a  short  interval  he  had  burst  out  again,  to 
enlighten  for  a  moment,  then  flickered  with  an  uncer- 
tain, staggering  sort  of  light,  and  then  gone  out  alto- 
gether. His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosom  ;and  perpe- 
tual snoring,  with  a  partial  choke  occasionally,  were  the 
only  audible  indications  of  the  great  man's  presence. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  23 

The  temptation  to  be  present  at  the  ball,  and  to 
form  his  first  impressions  of  the  beauty  of  the  Kent- 
ish ladies,  was  strong  upon  Mr.  Tupman.  The  temp- 
tation to  take  the  stranger  with  him  was  equally  great. 
He  was  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  place,  and  its 
inhabitants;  and  the  stranger  seemed  to  possess  as 
great  a  knowledge  of  both  as  if  he  had  lived  there 
from  his  infancy.  Mr.  Winkle  was  asleep,  and  Mr. 
Tupman  had  had  sufficient  experience  in  such  matters 
to  know,  that  the  moment  he  awoke  he  would,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  nature,  roll  heavily  to  bed.  He 
was  undecided.  Till  your  glass,  and  pass  the  wine,' 
said  the  indefatigable  visitor. 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  requested ;  and  the  ad- 
ditional stimulus  of  the  last  glass  settled  his  deter- 
mination. 

'Winkle's  bed-room  is  inside  mine,'  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man; 'I  couldn't  make  him  understand  what  I  wanted, 
if  I  woke  him  now,  but  I  know  he  has  a  dress  suit, 
in  a  carpet-bag,  and  supposing  you  wore  it  to  the 
ball,  and  took  it  off  when  we  returned,  I  could  replace 
it  without  troubling  him  at  all  about  the  matter.' 

'Capital,'  said  the  stranger,  'famous  plan — damned 
odd  situation — fourteen  coats  in  the  packing  cases, 
and  obliged  to  wear  another  man's — very  good  notion, 
that — very.' 

'We  must  purchase  our  tickets,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Not  worth  while  splitting  a  guinea,'  said  the  stran- 
ger, 'toss  who  shall  pay  for  both — I  call;  you  spin- 
first  time — woman — woman — bewitching  woman,'  and 
down  came  the  sovereign  with  the  Dragon  (called  by 
courtesy  a  woman)  uppermost. 

Mr.  Tupman  rang  the  bell,  purchased  the  tickets, 
and  ordered  chamber  candlesticks.  In  another  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  the  stranger  was  completely  arrayed 
in  a  full  suit  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle's. 


2*  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'It 's  a  new  coat,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  as  the  stranger 
surveyed  himself  with  great  complacency  in  a  cheval 
glass ;  'the  first  that 's  been  made  with  our  club  but- 
ton,' and  he  called  his  companion's  attention  to  the 
large  gilt  button  which  displayed  a  bust  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick in  the  centre,  and  the  letters  'P.  C.'  on  either 
side. 

'P.  C.,'  said  the  stranger — 'queer  set  out — old  fel- 
low's likeness,  and  "P.  C."— What  does  "P.  C."  stand 
for — Peculiar  coat,  eh?' 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  rising  indignation  and  great  im- 
portance, explained  the  mystic  device. 

'Rather  short  in  the  waist,  an't  it?'  said  the  stranger, 
screwing  himself  round  to  catch  a  glimpse  in  the 
glass  of  the  waist  buttons,  which  were  half-way  up  his 
back.  'Like  a  general  postman's  coat — queer  coats 
those — made  by  contract — no  measuring — mysterious 
dispensations  of  Providence — all  the  short  men  get 
long  coats — all  the  long  men  short  ones.'  Running 
on  in  this  way,  Mr.  Tupman's  new  companion  ad- 
justed his  dress,  or  rather  the  dress  of  Mr.  Winkle; 
and,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Tupman,  ascended  the  stair- 
case leading  -to  the  ball-room. 

'What  names,  sir?'  said  the  man  at  the  door.  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman  was  stepping  forward  to  announce 
his  own  titles,  when  the  stranger  prevented  him. 

'No  names  at  all' ;  and  then  he  whispered  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  'Names  won't  do — not  known — very  good  names 
in  their  way,  but  not  great  ones — capital  names  for 
a  small  party,  but  won't  make  an  impression  in  public 
assemblies — incog,  the  thing — Gentlemen  from  Lon- 
don— distinguished  foreigners — anything.'  The  door 
was  thrown  open;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  and  the 
stranger,  entered  the  ball-room. 

It  was  a  long  room,  with  crimson-covered  benches, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  25 

and  wax  candles  in  glass  chandeliers.  The  musicians 
were  securely  confined  in  an  elevated  den,  and  qua- 
drilles were  being  systematically  got  through  by  two 
or  three  sets  of  dancers.  Two  card-tables  were  made 
up  in  the  adjoining  card-room,  and  two  pair  of  old 
ladies,  and  a  corresponding  number  of  stout  gentle- 
men, were  executing  whist  therein. 

The  finale  concluded,  the  dancers  promenaded  the 
room,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  his  companion  stationed 
themselves  in  a  corner,  to  observe  the  company. 

'Charming  women,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Wait  a  minute,'  said  the  stranger,  'fun  presently— 
nobs  not  come  yet — queer  place — Dock-yard  people 
of  upper  rank  don't  know  Dock-yard  people  of  lower 
rank — Dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank  don't  know 
small  gentry — small  gentry  don't  know  tradespeople 
— Commissioner  don't  know  anybody.' 

'Who  's  that  little  boy  with  the  light  hair  and  pink 
eyes,  in  a  fancy  dress  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Hush,  pray — pink  eyes — fancy  dress —  little  boy- 
nonsense — Ensign  97th — Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe 
— great  family — Snipes — very.' 

'Sir  Thomas  Clubber,  Lady  Clubber,  and  the  Miss 
Clubbers !'  shouted  the  man  at  the  door  in  a  stentorian 
voice.  A  great  sensation  was  created  throughout  the 
room  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall  gentleman  in  a  blue 
coat  and  bright  buttons,  a  large  lady  in  blue  satin, 
and  two  young  ladies,  on  a  similar  scale,  in  fashion- 
ably-made dresses  of  the  same  hue. 

'Commissioner— head  of  the  yard— great  man— re- 
markably great  man,'  whispered  the  stranger  in  Mr. 
Tupman's  ear,  as  the  charitable  committee  ushered 
Sir  Thomas  Clubber  and  family  to  the  top  of  the 
room.  The  Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe  and  other  dis- 
tinguished gentlemen  crowded  to  render  homage  to 


26  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  Miss  Clubbers;  and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  stood 
bolt  upright,  and  looked  majestically  over  his  black 
neckerchief  at  the  assembled  company. 

'Mr.  Smithie,  Mrs.  Smithie,  and  the  Misses 
Smithie,'  was  the  next  announcement. 

'What's  Mr.  Smithie?'  inquired  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man. 

'Something  in  the  yard/  replied  the  stranger.  Mr. 
Smithie  bowed  deferentially  to  Sir  Thomas  Clubber; 
and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  acknowledged  the  salute 
with  conscious  condescension.  Lady  Clubber  took  a 
telescopic  view  of  Mrs.  Smithie  and  family  through 
her  eyeglass,  and  Mrs.  Smithie  stared  in  her  turn  at 
Mrs.  Somebody  else,  whose  husband  was  not  in  the 
Dock-yard  at  all. 

'Colonel  Bulder,  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Miss 
Bulder,'  were  the  next  arrivals. 

'Head  of  the  Garrison,'  said  the  stranger,  in  reply 
to  Mr.  Tupman's  inquiring  look. 

Miss  Bulder  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  Miss 
Clubbers;  the  greeting  between  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder 
and  Lady  Clubber  was  of  the  most  affectionate 
description;  Colonel  Bulder  and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber 
exchanged  snuff-boxes,  and  looked  very  much  like  a 
pair  of  Alexander  Selkirks — 'Monarchs  of  all  they 
surveyed.' 

While  the  aristocracy  of  the  place — the  Bulders,  and 
Clubbers,  and  Snipes — were  thus  preserving  their 
dignity  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  the  other  classes 
of  society  were  imitating  their  example  in  other  parts 
of  it.  The  less  aristocratic  officers  of  the  97th  de- 
voted themselves  to  the  families  of  the  less  important 
functionaries  from  the  Dock-yard.  The  solicitors' 
wives,  and  the  wine-merchant's  wife,  headed  another 
grade  (the  brewer's  wife  visited  the  Bulders)  ;  and 
Mrs.  Tomlinson,  the  post-office  keeper,  seemed  by 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  27 

mutual  consent  to  have  been  chosen  the  leader  of  the 
trade  party. 

One  of  the  most  popular  personages,  in  his  own 
circle,  present  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  a  ring  of 
upright  black  hair  round  his  head,  and  an  extensive 
bald  plain  on  the  top  of  it — Doctor  Slammer,  surgeon 
to  the  97th.  The  Doctor  took  snuff  with  everybody, 
chatted  with  everybody,  laughed,  danced,  made  jokes, 
played  whist,  did  everything,  and  was  everywhere. 
To  these  pursuits,  multifarious  as  they  were,  the  little 
Doctor  added  a  more  important  one  than  any — he  was 
indefatigable  in  paying  the  most  unremitting  and 
devoted  attention  to  a  little  old  widow,  whose  rich 
dress  and  profusion  of  ornament  bespoke  her  a  most 
desirable  addition  to  a  limited  income. 

Upon  the  Doctor,  and  the  widow,  the  eyes  of  both 
Mr.  Tupman  and  his  companion  had  been  fixed  for 
some  time,  when  the  stranger  broke  silence. 

'Lots  of  money — old  girl — pompous  Doctor — not 
a  bad  idea — good  fun,'  were  the  intelligible  sentences 
which  issued  from  his  lips.  Mr.  Tupman  looked  in- 
quisitively in  his  face. 

'I  '11  dance  with  the  widow,'  said  the  stranger. 

'Who  is  she?'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Don't  know — never  saw  her  in  all  my  life — cut 
out  the  Doctor — here  goes.'  And  the  stranger  forth- 
with crossed  the  room;  and,  leaning  against  a  mantel- 
piece, commenced  gazing  with  an  air  of  respectful 
and  melancholy  admiration  on  the  fat  countenance  of 
the  little  old  lady.  Mr.  Tupman  looked  on,  in  mute 
astonishment.  The  stranger  progressed  rapidly;  the 
little  Doctor  danced  with  another  lady;  the  widow 
dropped  her  fan,  the  stranger  picked  it  up,  and  pre- 
sented it, — a  smile — a  bow — a  curtsey — a  few  words 
of  conversation.  The  stranger  walked  boldly  up  to, 
and  returned  with,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies;  a 


28  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

little  introductory  pantomime;  and  the  stranger  and 
Mrs.  Budger  took  their  places  in  a  quadrille. 

The  surprise  of  Mr.  Tupman  at  this  summary  pro- 
ceeding, great  as  it  was,  was  immeasurably  exceeded 
by  the  astonishment  of  the  Doctor.  The  stranger 
was  young,  and  the  widow  was  flattered.  The  Doc- 
tor's attentions  were  unheeded  by  the  widow ;  and  the 
Doctor's  indignation  was  wholly  lost  on  his  imper- 
turbable rival.  Doctor  Slammer  was  paralysed. 
He,  Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  97th,  to  be  extinguished 
in  a  moment,  by  a  man  whom  nobody  had  ever  seen 
before,  and  whom  nobody  knew  even  now!  Doctor 
Slammer — Doctor  Slammer  of  the  97th  rejectedl 
Impossible !  It  could  not  be !  Yes,  it  was ;  there  they 
were.  What!  introducing  his  friend!  Could  he  be- 
lieve his  eyes!  He  looked  again,  and  was  under  the 
painful  necessity  of  admitting  the  veracity  of  his 
optics;  Mrs.  Budger  was  dancing  with  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  fact.  There 
was  the  widow  before  him,  bouncing  bodily,  here  and 
there,  with  unwonted  vigour;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man hopping  about,  with  a  face  expressive  of  the 
most  intense  solemnity,  dancing  ( as  a  good  many  peo- 
ple do)  as  if  a  quadrille  were  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed 
at,  but  a  severe  trial  to  the  feelings,  which  it  requires 
inflexible  resolution  to  encounter. 

Silently  and  patiently  did  the  Doctor  bear  all  this, 
and  all  the  handings  of  negus,  and  watching  for 
glasses,  and  darting  for  biscuits,  and  coquetting,  that 
ensued ;  but,  a  few  seconds  after  the  stranger  had  dis- 
appeared to  lead  Mrs.  Budger  to  her  carriage,  he 
darted  swiftly  from  the  room  with  every  particle  of 
his  hitherto-bottled-up  indignation  effervescing,  from 
all  parts  of  his  countenance,  in  a  perspiration  of  pas- 
sion. 

The  stranger  was  returning,  and  Mr.  Tupman  was 


DR.  SLAMMER'S  DEFIANCE  OF  JINGLE. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  29 

beside  him.  He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  laughed. 
The  little  Doctor  thirsted  for  his  life.  He  was  exult- 
ing. He  had  triumphed. 

'Sir!'  said  the  Doctor,  in  an  awful  voice,  producing 
a  card,  and  retiring  into  an  angle  of  the  passage, 
'my  name  is  Slammer,  Doctor  Slammer,  sir — 97th 
Regiment — Chatham  Barracks — my  card,  sir,  my 
card.'  He  would  have  added  more,  but  his  indigna- 
tion choked  him. 

'Ah!'  replied  the  stranger,  coolly,  'Slammer — much 
obliged — polite  attention — not  ill  now,  Slammer— 
but  when  I  am — knock  you  up.' 

'You — you're  a  shuffler!  sir,'  gasped  the  furious 
Doctor,  'a  poltroon — a  coward — a  liar — a — a — will 
nothing  induce  you  to  give  me  your  card,  sir!' 

'Oh !  I  see,'  said  the  stranger,  half  aside,  'negus  too 
strong  here — liberal  landlord — very  foolish — very- 
lemonade  much  better — hot  rooms — elderly  gentle- 
men— suffer   for  it   in  the  morning — cruel — cruel-'; 
and  he  moved  on  a  step  or  two. 

'You  are  stopping  in  this  house,  sir,'  said  the  in- 
dignant little  man;  'you  are  intoxicated  now,  sir;  you 
shall  hear  from  me  in  the  morning,  sir.  I  shall  find 
you  out,  sir;  I  shall  find  you  out.' 

'Rather  you  found  me  out  than  found  me  at  home,' 
replied  the  unmoved  stranger. 

Doctor  Slammer  looked  unutterable  ferocity,  as  he 
fixed  his  hat  on  his  head  with  an  indignant  knock; 
and  the  stranger  and  Mr.  Tupman  ascended  to  the 
bed-room  of  the  latter  to  restore  the  borrowed  plum- 
age to  the  unconscious  Winkle. 

That  gentleman  was  fast  asleep ;  the  restoration  was 
soon  made.  The  stranger  wras  extremely  jocose;  and 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  being  quite  bewildered  with  wine, 
negus,  lights,  and  ladies,  thought  the  whole  affair  an 
exquisite  joke.  His  new  friend  departed;  and,  after 


30  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

experiencing1  some  slight  difficulty  in  finding  the  ori- 
fice in  his  night-cap,  originally  intended  for  the  re- 
ception of  his  head,  and  finally  overturning  his 
candlestick  in  his  struggles  to  put  it  on,  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman  managed  to  get  into  bed  by  a  series  of  com- 
plicated evolutions,  and  shortly  afterwards  sank  into 
repose. 

Seven  o'clock  had  hardly  ceased  striking  on  the 
following  morning  when  Mr.  Pickwick's  comprehen- 
sive mind  was  aroused  from  the  state  of  unconscious- 
ness, in  which  slumber  had  plunged  it,  by  a  loud 
knocking  at  his  chamber  door. 

'Who  's  there  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting  up  in 
bed. 

'Boots,  sir.' 

'What  do  you  want?' 

'Please,  sir,  can  you  tell  me,  which  gentleman  of 
your  party  wears  a  bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a 
gilt  button  with  P.C.  on  it?' 

'It 's  been  given  out  to  brush,'  thought  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'and  the  man  has  forgotten  whom  it  belongs  to. 
— Mr.  Winkle,'  he  called  out,  'next  room  but  two,  on 
the  right  hand.' 

'Thank  'ee,  sir,'  said  the  Boots,  and  away  he  went. 

'What 's  the  matter?'  cried  Mr.  Tupman,  as  a  loud 
knocking  at  his  door  roused  him  from  his  oblivious 
repose. 

'Can  I  speak  to  Mr.  Winkle,  sir?'  replied  the  Boots 
from  the  outside. 

'Winkle — Winkle!'  shouted  Mr.  Tupman,  calling 
into  the  inner  room. 

'Hallo!'  replied  a  faint  voice  from  within  the  bed- 
clothes. 

'You  're  wanted — some  one  at  the  door — '.  and  hav- 
ing exerted  himself  to  articulate  thus  much,  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman  turned  round  and  fell  fast  asleep  again. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  31 

'Wanted!'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hastily  jumping  out 
of  bed,  and  putting  on  a  few  articles  of  clothing: 
'wanted!  at  this  distance  from  town — who  on  earth 
can  want  me?' 

'Gentleman  in  the  coffee-room,  sir,'  replied  the 
Boots,  as  Mr.  Winkle  opened  the  dopr,  and  confronted 
him ;  'gentleman  says  he  '11  not  detain  you  a  moment, 
sir,  but  he  can  take  no  denial.' 

'Very  odd!'  said  Mr.  Winkle;  'I'll  be  down  di- 
rectly.' 

He  hurriedly  wrapped  himself  in  a  travelling- 
shawl  and  dressing-gown,  and  proceeded  downstairs. 
An  old  woman  and  a  couple  of  waiters  were  cleaning 
the  coffee-room,  and  an  officer  in  undress  uniform 
was  looking  out  of  the  window.  He  turned  round 
as  Mr.  Winkle  entered,  and  made  a  stiff  inclination 
of  the  head.  Having  ordered  the  attendants  to  retire, 
and  closed  the  door  very  carefully,  he  said,  'Mr. 
Winkle,  I  presume?' 

'My  name  is  Winkle,  sir.' 

'You  will  not  be  surprised,  sir,  when  I  inform  you, 
that  I  have  called  here  this  morning  on  behalf  of  my 
friend,  Dr.  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-seventh.' 

'Doctor  Slammer!'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Doctor  Slammer.  He  begged  me  to  express  his 
opinion  that  your  conduct  of  last  evening  was  of  a 
description  which  no  gentleman  could  endure:  and 
(he  added)  which  no  one  gentleman  would  pursue 
towards  another.' 

Mr.  Winkle's  astonishment  was  too  real,  and  too 
evident,  to  escape  the  observation  of  Dr.  Slammer's 
friend;  he  therefore  proceeded— 'My  friend,  Doctor 
Slammer,  requested  me  to  add,  that  he  was  firmly 
persuaded  you  were  intoxicated  during  a  portion  of 
the  evening,  and  possibly  unconscious  of  the  extent 
of  the  insult  you  were  guilty  of.  He  commissioned 


32  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

me  to  say,  that  should  this  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for 
your  behaviour,  he  will  consent  to  accept  a  written 
apology,  to  be  penned  by  you,  from  my  dictation.' 

'A  written  apology!'  repeated  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the 
most  emphatic  tone  of  amazement  possible. 

'Of  course  you  know  the  alternative,'  replied  the 
visitor,  coolly. 

'Were  you  entrusted  with  this  message  to  me,  by 
name?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  whose  intellects  were 
hopelessly  confused  by  this  extraordinary  conversa- 
tion. 

'I  was  not  present  myself,'  replied  the  visitor,  'and 
in  consequence  of  your  firm  refusal  to  give  your  card 
to  Doctor  Slammer,  I  was  desired  by  that  gentleman 
to  identify  the  wearer  of  a  very  uncommon  coat — a 
bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button  displaying 
a  bust,  and  the  letters  "P.  C." 

Mr.  Winkle  actually  staggered  with  astonishment, 
as  he  heard  his  own  costume  thus  minutely  described. 
Doctor  Slammer's  friend  proceeded: — 'From  the  in- 
quiries I  made  at  the  bar,  just  now,  I  was  convinced 
that  the  owner  of  the  coat  in  question  arrived  here, 
with  three  gentlemen,  yesterday  afternoon.  I  im- 
mediately sent  up  to  the  gentleman  who  was  described 
as  appearing  the  head  of  the  party,  and  he  at  once 
referred  me  to  you.' 

If  the  principal  tower  of  Rochester  Castle  had  sud- 
denly walked  from  its  foundation,  and  stationed  itself 
opposite  the  coffee-room  window,  Mr.  Winkle's  sur- 
prise would  have  been  as  nothing  compared  with  the 
profound  astonishment  with  which  he  had  heard  this 
address.  His  first  impression  was,  that  his  coat  had 
been  stolen.  'Will  you  allow  me  to  detain  you  one 
moment?'  said  he. 

'Certainly,'  replied  the  unwelcome  visitor. 

Mr.  Winkle  ran  hastily  upstairs,  and  with  a  trem- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  33 

bling  hand  opened  the  bag.  There  was  the  coat  in 
its  usual  place,  but  exhibiting,  on  a  close  inspection, 
evident  tokens  of  having  been  worn  on  the  preceding 
night. 

'It  must  be  so,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  letting  the  coat 
fall  from  his  hands.  'I  took  too  much  wine  after  din- 
ner, and  have  a  very  vague  recollection  of  walking 
about  the  streets  and  smoking  a  cigar  afterwards. 
The  fact  is,  I  was  very  drunk ; — I  must  have  changed 
my  coat — gone  somewhere — and  insulted  somebody— 
I  have  no  doubt  of  it ;  and  this  message  is  the  terrible 
consequence.'  Saying  which,  Mr.  Winkle  retraced 
his  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  coffee-room,  with  the 
gloomy  and  dreadful  resolve  of  accepting  the  chal- 
lenge of  the  warlike  Doctor  Slammer,  and  abiding  by 
the  worst  consequences  that  might  ensue. 

To  this  determination  Mr.  Winkle  was  urged  by  a 
variety  of  considerations;  the  first  of  which  was,  his 
reputation  with  the  club.  He  had  always  been  looked 
up  to  as  a  high  authority  on  all  matters  of  amusement 
and  dexterity,  whether  offensive,  defensive,  or  inof- 
fensive ;  and  if,  on  this  very  first  occasion  of  being  put 
to  the  test,  he  shrunk  back  from  the  trial,  beneath  his 
leader's  eye,  his  name  and  standing  were  lost  for  ever. 
Besides,  he  remembered  to  have  heard  it  frequently 
surmised  by  the  uninitiated  in  such  matters,  that  by  an 
understood  arrangement  between  the  seconds,  the 
pistols  were  seldom  loaded  with  ball;  and,  further- 
more, he  reflected  that  if  he  applied  to  Mr.  Snodgrass 
to  act  as  his  second,  and  depicted  the  danger  in  glow- 
ing terms,  that  gentleman  might  possibly  communi- 
cate the  intelligence  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  would 
certainly  lose  no  time  in  transmitting  it  to  the  local 
authorities,  and  thus  prevent  the  killing  or  maiming 
of  his  follower. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  he  returned  to  the 


34  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

coffee-room,  and  intimated  his  intention  of  accepting 
the  Doctor's  challenge. 

'Will  you  refer  me  to  a  friend,  to  arrange  the  time 
and  place  of  meeting?'  said  the  officer. 

'Quite  unnecessary,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  'name 
them  to  me,  and  I  can  procure  the  attendance  of  a 
friend  afterwards.' 

'Shall  we  say — sunset  this  evening?'  inquired  the 
officer,  in  a  careless  tone. 

'Very  good,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  thinking  in  his 
heart  it  was  very  bad. 

'You  know  Fort  Pitt?' 

'Yes ;  I  saw  it  yesterday.' 

'If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  turn  into  the  field 
which  borders  the  trench,  take  the  foot-path  to  the 
left  when  you  arrive  at  an  angle  of  the  fortification, 
and  keep  straight  on  'till  you  see  me,  I  will  precede 
you  to  a  secluded  place,  where  the  affair  can  be  con- 
ducted without  fear  of  interruption.' 

fFear  of  interruption !'  thought  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Nothing  more  to  arrange,  I  think,'  said  the  officer. 

'I  am  not  aware  of  anything  more,'  replied  Mr. 
Winkle. 

'Good  morning.' 

'Good  morning';  and  the  officer  whistled  a  lively 
air  as  he  strode  away. 

That  morning's  breakfast  passed  heavily  off.  Mr. 
Tupman  was  not  in  a  condition  to  rise,  after  the  un- 
wonted dissipation  of  the  previous  night;  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  appeared  to  labour  under  a  poetical  depression 
of  spirits ;  and  even  Mr.  Pickwick  evinced  an  unusual 
attachment  to  silence  and  soda-water.  Mr.  Winkle 
eagerly  watched  his  opportunity:  it  was  not  long 
wanting.  Mr.  Snodgrass  proposed  a  visit  to  the 
castle,  and  as  Mr.  Winkle  was  the  only  other  member 
of  the  party  disposed  to  walk,  they  went  out  together. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  35 

'Snodgrass,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  when  they  had  turned 
out  of  the  public  street,  'Snodgrass,  my  dear  fellow, 
can  I  rely  upon  your  secrecy?'  As  he  said  this,  he 
most  devoutly  and  earnestly  hoped  he  could  not. 

'You  can,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  'Hear  me 
swear — ' 

'No,  no,'  interrupted  Winkle,  terrified  at  the  idea 
of  his  companion's  unconsciously  pledging  himself 
not  to  give  information ;  'don't  swear,  don't  swear ;  it 's 
quite  unnecessary.' 

Mr.  Snodgrass  dropped  the  hand  which  he  had,  in 
the  spirit  of  poesy,  raised  towards  the  clouds  as  he 
made  the  above  appeal,  and  assumed  an  attitude  of 
attention. 

'I  want  your  assistance,  my  dear  fellow,  in  an  affair 
of  honour,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'You  shall  have  it,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  clasping 
his  friend's  hand. 

'With  a  Doctor — Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety- 
seventh,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  wishing  to  make  the  matter 
appear  as  solemn  as  possible ;  'an  affair  with  an  officer, 
seconded  by  another  officer,  at  sunset  this  evening,  in 
a  lonely  field  beyond  Fort  Pitt.' 

'I  will  attend  you,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

He  was  astonished,  but  by  no  means  dismayed.  It 
is  extraordinary  how  cool  any  party  but  the  principal 
can  be  in  such  cases.  Mr.  Winkle  had  forgotten  this. 
He  had  judged  of  his  friend's  feelings  by  his  own. 

'The  consequences  may  be  dreadful,'  said  Mr. 
Winkle. 

'I  hope  not,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'The  Doctor,  I  believe,  is  a  very  good  shot,'  said 
Mr.  Winkle. 

'Most  of  these  military  men  are,'  observed  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  calmly;  'but  so  are  you,  an't  you?' 

Mr.  Winkle  replied  in  the  affirmative;  and  per- 


36  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ceiving  that  he  had  not  alarmed  his  companion  suffi- 
ciently, changed  his  ground. 

'Snodgrass,'  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
emotion,  'If  I  fall,  you  will  find  in  a  packet  which  I 
shall  place  in  your  hands  a  note  for  my — for  my 
father.' 

This  attack  was  a  failure  also.  Mr.  Snodgrass  was 
affected,  but  he  undertook  the  delivery  of  the  note 
as  readily  as  if  he  had  been  a  Twopenny  Postman. 

'If  I  fall,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  'or  if  the  Doctor  falls, 
you,  my  dear  friend,  will  be  tried  as  an  accessory 
before  the  fact.  Shall  I  involve  my  friend  in  trans- 
portation— possibly  for  life !' 

Mr.  Snodgrass  winced  a  little  at  this,  but  his  hero- 
ism was  invincible.  'In  the  cause  of  friendship,'  he 
fervently  exclaimed,  'I  would  brave  all  dangers.' 

How  Mr.  Winkle  cursed  his  companion's  devoted 
friendship  internally,  as  they  walked  silently  along, 
side  by  side,  for  some  minutes,  each  immersed  in  his 
own  meditations!  The  morning  was  wearing  away; 
he  grew  desperate. 

'Snodgrass,'  he  said,  stopping  suddenly,  'do  not  let 
me  be  baulked  in  this  matter — do  not  give  informa- 
tion to  the  local  authorities — do  not  obtain  the  assist- 
ance of  several  peace  officers,  to  take  either  me  or 
Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-seventh  Regiment,  at 
present  quartered  in  Chatham  Barracks,  into  custody, 
and  thus  prevent  this  duel ; — I  say,  do  not/ 

Mr.  Snodgrass  seized  his  friend's  hand  warmly,  as 
he  enthusiastically  replied,  'Not  for  worlds !' 

A  thrill  passed  over  Mr.  Winkle's  frame  as  the 
conviction  that  he  had  nothing  to  hope  from  his 
friend's  fears,  and  that  he  was  destined  to  become  an 
animated  target,  rushed  forcibly  upon  him. 

The  state  of  the  case  having  been  formally  ex- 
plained to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  a  case  of  satisfaction 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  37 

pistols,  with  the  satisfactory  accompaniments  of 
powder,  ball,  and  caps,  having  been  hired  from  a 
manufacturer  in  Rochester,  the  two  friends  returned 
to  their  inn ;  Mr.  Winkle  to  ruminate  on  the  approach- 
ing struggle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  arrange  the 
weapons  of  war,  and  put  them  into  proper  order  for 
immediate  use. 

It  was  a  dull  and  heavy  evening  when  they  again 
sallied  forth  on  their  awkward  errand.  Mr.  Winkle 
was  muffled  up  in  a  huge  cloak  to  escape  observation, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  under  his  the  instruments  of 
destruction. 

'Have  you  got  everything?'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in 
an  agitated  tone. 

'Ev'ry thing,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass;  'plenty  of 
ammunition,  in  case  the  shots  don't  take  effect. 
There  's  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  powder  in  the  case, 
and  I  have  got  two  newspapers  in  my  pocket  for  the 
loadings.' 

These  were  instances  of  friendship  for  which  any 
man  might  reasonably  feel  most  grateful.  The  pre- 
sumption is,  that  the  gratitude  of  Mr.  Winkle  was 
too  powerful  for  utterance,  as  he  said  nothing,  but 
continued  to  walk  on — rather  slowly. 

'We  are  in  excellent  time,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as 
they  climbed  the  fence  of  the  first  field;  'the  sun  is 
just  going  down.'  Mr.  Winkle  looked  up  at  the  de- 
clining orb,  and  painfully  thought  of  the  probability 
of  his  'going  down'  himself,  before  long. 

'There  's  the  officer,'  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  after 
a  few  minutes'  walking. 

'Where?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'There; — the  gentleman  in  the  blue  cloak.'  Mr. 
Snodgrass  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  b>  the 
forefinger  of  his  friend,  and  observed  a  figure,  muf- 
fled up,  as  he  had  described.  The  officer  evinced  his 


38  .THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

consciousness  of  their  presence  by  slightly  beckoning 
with  his  hand ;  and  the  two  friends  followed  him  at  a 
little  distance,  as  he  walked  away. 

The  evening  grew  more  dull  every  moment,  and 
a  melancholy  wind  sounded  through  the  deserted 
fields,  like  a  distant  giant  whistling  for  his  house- 
dog. The  sadness  of  the  scene  imparted  a  sombre 
tinge  to  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Winkle.  He  started  as 
they  passed  the  angle  of  the  trench — it  looked  like  a 
colossal  grave. 

The  officer  turned  suddenly  from  the  path,  and 
after  climbing  a  paling,  and  scaling  a  hedge,  entered 
a  secluded  field.  Two  gentlemen  were  waiting  in  it; 
one  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  black  hair;  and  the 
other — a  portly  personage  in  a  braided  surtout — was 
sitting  with  perfect  equanimity  on  a  camp-stool. 

'The  other  party,  and  a  surgeon,  I  suppose,'  said 
Mr.  Snodgrass;  'take  a  drop  of  brandy.'  Mr.  Winkle 
seized  the  wicker  bottle  which  his  friend  proffered, 
and  took  a  lengthened  pull  at  the  exhilarating  liquid. 

'My  friend,  sir,  Mr.  Snodgrass,'  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
as  the  officer  approached.  Doctor  Slammer's  friend 
bowed,  and  produced  a  case  similar  to  that  which  Mr. 
Snodgrass  carried. 

'We  have  nothing  farther  to  say,  sir,  I  think,'  he 
coldly  remarked,  as  he  opened  the  case;  'an  apology 
has  been  resolutely  declined.' 

'Nothing,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  began  to 
feel  rather  uncomfortable  himself. 

'Will  you  step  forward?'  said  the  officer. 

'Certainly,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  The  ground 
was  measured,  and  preliminaries  arranged. 

'You  will  find  these  better  than  your  own/  said  the 
opposite  second,  producing  his  pistols.  'You  saw  me 
load  them.  Do  you  object  to  use  them?' 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.     The  offer 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  39 

relieved  him  from  considerable  embarrassment,  for 
his  previous  notions  of  loading  a  pistol  were  rather 
vague  and  undefined. 

'We  may  place  our  men,  then,  I  think,'  observed 
the  officer,  with  as  much  indifference  as  if  the  prin- 
cipals were  chess-men,  and  the  seconds  players. 

'I  think  we  may,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass;  who 
would  have  assented  to  any  proposition,  because  he 
knew  nothing  about  the  matter.  The  officer  crossed 
to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  went  up  to 
Mr.  Winkle. 

'It 's  all  ready,'  he  said,  offering  the  pistol.  'Give 
me  your  cloak.' 

'You  have  got  the  packet,  my  dear  fellow?'  said 
poor  Winkle. 

'All  right,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.  'Be  steady,  and 
wing  him.' 

It  occurred  to  Mr.  Winkle  that  this  advice  was  very 
like  that  which  bystanders  invariably  give  to  the  small- 
est boy  in  a  street  fight,  namely,  'Go  in,  and  win': — 
an  admirable  thing  to  recommend,  if  you  only  know 
how  to  do  it.  He  took  off  his  cloak,  however,  in 
silence — it  always  took  a  long  time  to  undo,  that  cloak 
— and  accepted  the  pistol.  The  seconds  retired,  the 
gentleman  on  the  camp-stool  did  the  same,  and  the 
belligerents  approached  each  other. 

Mr.  Winkle  was  always  remarkable  for  extreme  hu- 
manity. It  is  conjectured  that  his  unwillingness  to 
hurt  a  fellow-creature  intentionally  was  the  cause  of 
his  shutting  his  eyes  when  he  arrived  at  the  fatal  spot ; 
and  that  the  circumstance  of  his  eyes  being  closed, 
prevented  his  observing  the  very  extraordinary  and 
unaccountable  demeanour  of  Doctor  Slammer.  That 
gentleman  started,  stared,  retreated,  rubbed  his  eys. 
stared  again;  and,  finally,  shouted  'Stop,  stop!' 

'What's  all  this?'   said  Doctor   Slammer,  as  his 


40  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

friend  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  came  running  up ;  'That 's 
not  the  man.' 

'Not  the  man!'  said  Doctor  Slammer's  second. 

'Not  the  man!'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Not  the  man!'  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp- 
stool  in  his  hand. 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  the  little  Doctor.  'That 's 
not  the  person  who  insulted  me  last  night.' 

'Very  extraordinary !'  exclaimed  the  officer. 

'Very,'  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp-stool. 
'The  only  question  is,  whether  the  gentleman,  being 
on  the  ground,  must  not  be  considered,  as  a  matter  of 
form,  to  be  the  individual  who  insulted  our  friend, 
Doctor  Slammer,  yesterday  evening,  whether  he  is 
really  that  individual  or  not' :  and  having  delivered  this 
suggestion,  with  a  very  sage  and  mysterious  air,  the 
man  with  the  camp-stool  took  a  large  pinch  of  snuff, 
and  looked  profoundly  round,  with  the  air  of  an  au- 
thority in  such  matters. 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  had  opened  his  eyes,  and  his 
ears  too,  when  he  heard  his  adversary  call  out  for  a  ces- 
sation of  hostilities;  and  perceiving  by  what  he  had 
afterwards  said,  that  there  was,  beyond  all  question, 
some  mistake  in  the  matter,  he  at  once  foresaw  the  in- 
crease of  reputation  he  should  inevitably  acquire  by 
concealing  the  real  motive  of  his  coming  out :  he  there- 
fore stepped  boldly  forward,  and  said — 

'I  am  not  the  person.     I  know  it.' 

'Then,  that,'  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  'is 
an  affront  to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  a  sufficient  reason 
for  proceeding  immediately.' 

'Pray  be  quiet,  Payne,'  said  the  Doctor's  second. 
'Why  did  you  not  communicate  this  fact  to  me  this 
morning,  sir?' 

'To  be  sure — to  be  sure,'  said  the  man  with  the 
camp-stool,  indignantly* 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  41 

'I  entreat  you  to  be  quiet,  Payne,'  said  the  other. 
'May  I  repeat  my  question,  sir?' 

'Because,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  had 
time  to  deliberate  upon  his  answer,  'because,  sir,  you 
described  an  intoxicated  and  ungentlemanly  person  as 
wearing  a  coat  which  I  have  the  honour,  not  only  to 
wear,  but  to  have  invented — the  proposed  uniform,  sir, 
of  the  Pickwick  Club  in  London.  The  honour  of  that 
uniform  I  feel  bound  to  maintain,  and  I  therefore, 
without  inquiry,  accepted  the  challenge  which  you 
offered  me.' 

'My  dear  sir,'  said  the  good-humoured  little  Doctor, 
advancing  with  extended  hand,  'I  honour  your  gal- 
lantry. Permit  me  to  say,  sir,  that  I  highly  admire 
your  conduct,  and  extremely  regret  having  caused  you 
the  inconvenience  of  this  meeting,  to  no  purpose.' 

'I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'I  shall  feel  proud  of  your  acquaintance,  sir,'  said 
the  little  Doctor. 

'It  will  afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  know  you, 
sir,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  Thereupon  the  Doctor  and 
Mr.  Winkle  shook  hands,  and  then  Mr.  Winkle  and 
Lieutenant  Tappleton  (the  Doctor's  second),  and 
then  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  man  with  the  camp-stool, 
and,  finally,  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass — the 
last-named  gentleman  in  an  excess  of  admiration 
at  the  noble  conduct  of  his  heroic  friend. 

'I  think  we  may  adjourn,'  said  Lieutenant  Tapple- 
ton. 

'Certainly,'  added  the  Doctor. 

'Unless,'  interposed  the  man  with  the  camp-stool* 
'unless  Mr.  Winkle  feels  himself  aggrieved  by  the 
challenge;  in  which  case,  I  submit,  he  has  a  right  to 
satisfaction.' 

Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  self-denial,  expressed  him- 
self quite  satisfied  already. 


42  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Or  possibly,'  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  'the 
gentleman's  second  may  feel  himself  affronted  with 
some  observations  which  fell  from  me  at  an  early 
period  of  this  meeting :  if  so,  I  shall  be  happy  to  give 
him  satisfaction  immediately.' 

Mr.  Snodgrass  hastily  professed  himself  very  much 
obliged  with  the  handsome  offer  of  the  gentleman  who 
had  spoken  last,  which  he  was  only  induced  to  decline 
by  his  entire  contentment  with  the  whole  proceedings. 
The  two  seconds  adjusted  the  cases,  and  the  whole 
party  left  the  ground  in  a  much  more  lively  manner 
than  they  had  proceeded  to  it. 

'Do  you  remain  long  here?'  inquired  Doctor  Slam- 
mer of  Mr.  Winkle,  as  they  walked  on  most  amicably 
together. 

'I  think  we  shall  leave  here  the  day  after  to-morrow,' 
was  the  reply. 

'I  trust  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  and 
your  friend  at  my  rooms,  and  of  spending  a  pleasant 
evening  with  you,  after  this  awkward  mistake,'  said 
the  little  Doctor;  'are  you  disengaged  this  evening?' 

'We  have  some  friends  here,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle, 
'and  I  should  not  like  to  leave  them  to-night.  Per- 
haps you  and  your  friend  will  join  us  at  the  Bull.' 

'With  great  pleasure/  said  the  little  Doctor;  'will 
ten  o'clock  be  too  late  to  look  in  for  half  an  hour?' 

'Oh  dear,  no,'  said  Mr.  Winkle.  'I  shall  be  most 
happy  to  introduce  you  to  my  friends,  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Mr.  Tupman.' 

'It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,  I  am  sure,'  replied 
Doctor  Slammer,  little  suspecting  who  Mr.  Tupman 
was. 

'You  will  be  sure  to  come  ?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Oh,  certainly.' 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  road.  Cordial 
farewells  were  exchanged,  and  the  party  separated, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  43 

Doctor  Slammer  and  his  friends  repaired  to  the  bar- 
racks, and  Mr.  Winkle,  accompanied  by  his  friend, 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  returned  to  their  inn. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  THE  STROLLERS  TALE.  A  DIS- 
AGREEABLE INTERRUPTION,  AND  AN  UNPLEASANT 
ENCOUNTER 

MR.  PICKWICK  had  felt  some  apprehensions  in  conse- 
quence of  the  unusual  absence  of  his  two  friends,  which 
their  mysterious  behaviour  during  the  whole  morning 
had  by  no  means  tended  to  diminish.  It  was,  there- 
fore, with  more  than  ordinary  pleasure  that  he  rose  to 
greet  them  when  they  again  entered;  and  with  more 
than  ordinary  interest  that  he  inquired  what  had  oc- 
curred to  detain  them  from  his  society.  In  reply  to 
his  questions  on  this  point,  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about 
to  offer  an  historical  account  of  the  circumstances  just 
now  detailed,  when  he  was  suddenly  checked  by  ob- 
serving that  there  were  present,  not  only  Mr.  Tupman 
and  their  stagecoach  companion  of  the  preceding  day, 
but  another  stranger  of  equally  singular  appearance. 
It  was  a  care-worn  looking  man,  whose  sallow  face, 
and  deeply  sunken  eyes,  were  rendered  still  more  strik- 
ing than  nature  had  made  them,  by  the  straight  black 
hair  which  hung  in  matted  disorder  half  way  down  his 
face.  His  eyes  were  almost  unnaturally  bright  and 
piercing;  his  cheek-bones  were  high  and  prominent; 
and  his  jaws  were  so  long  and  lank,  that  an  observer 
would  have  supposed  that  he  was  drawing  the  flesh  of 
his  face  in,  for  a  moment,  by  some  contraction  of  the 
muscles,  if  his  half -opened  mouth  and  immovable  ex- 
pression had  not  announced  that  it  was  his  ordinary 


44  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

appearance.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a  green  shawl, 
with  the  large  ends  straggling  over  his  chest,  and 
making  their  appearance  occasionally  beneath  the 
worn  button-holes  of  his  old  waistcoat.  His  upper 
garment  was  a  long  black  surtout;  and  below  it  he 
wore  wide  drab  trousers,  and  large  boots,  running 
rapidly  to  seed. 

It  was  on  this  uncouth-looking  person  that  Mr. 
Winkle's  eye  rested,  and  it  was  towards  him  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  extended  his  hand,  when  he  said  'A  friend 
of  our  friend's  here.  We  discovered  this  morning 
that  our  friend  was  connected  with  the  theatre  in  this 
place,  though  he  is  not  desirous  to  have  it  generally 
known,  and  this  gentleman  is  a  member  of  the  same 
profession.  He  was  about  to  favour  us  with  a  little 
anecdote  connected  with  it,  when  you  entered.' 

'Lots  of  anecdote,'  said  the  green-coated  stranger 
of  the  day  before,  advancing  'to  Mr.  Winkle  and 
speaking  in  a  low  and  confidential  tone.  'Rum  fel- 
low— does  the  heavy  business — no  actor — strange  man 
— all  sorts  of  miseries — Dismal  Jemmy,  we  call  him 
on  the  circuit.'  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  po- 
litely welcomed  the  gentleman,  elegantly  designated 
as  'Dismal  Jemmy';  and  calling  for  brandy-and- 
water,  in  imitation  of  the  remainder  of  the  company, 
seated  themselves  at  the  table. 

'Now,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'will  you  oblige  us 
by  proceeding  with  what  you  were  going  to  relate  ?' 

The  dismal  individual  took  a  dirty  roll  of  paper 
from  his  pocket,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who 
had  just  taken  out  his  note-book,  said  in  a  hollow 
voice  perfectly  in  keeping  with  his  outward  man — 
'Are  you  the  poet?' 

'I — I  do  a  little  in  that  way,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
rather  taken  aback  by  the  abruptness  of  the  question. 

'Ah!  poetry  makes  life  what  lights  and  music  do 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  45 

the  stage — strip  the  one  of  its  false  embellishments, 
and  the  other  of  its  illusions,  and  what  is  there  real  in 
either  to  live  or  care  for?' 

'Very  true,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'To  be  before  the  footlights,'  continued  the  dismal 
man,  'is  like  sitting  at  a  grand  court  show,  and  ad- 
miring the  silken  dresses  of  the  gaudy  throng — to  be 
behind  them  is  to  be  the  people  who  make  that  finery, 
uncared  for  and  unknown,  and  left  to  sink  or  swim,  to 
starve  or  live,  as  fortune  wills  it.' 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass:  for  the  sunken  eye 
of  the  dismal  man  rested  on  him,  and  he  felt  it  neces- 
sary to  say  something. 

'Go  on,  Jemmy,'  said  the  Spanish  traveller,  'like 
black-eyed  Susan — all  in  the  Downs — no  croaking — • 
speak  out — look  lively.' 

'Will  you  make  another  glass  before  you  begin,  sir?' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  dismal  man  took  the  hint,  and  having  mixed  a 
glass  of  brandy-and-water,  and  slowly  swallowed  half 
of  it,  opened  the  roll  of  paper  and  proceeded,  partly  to 
read,  and  partly  to  relate,  the  following  incident, 
which  we  find  recorded  on  the  Transactions  of  the 
club  as  'The  Stroller's  Tale.' 

THE  STROLLER'S  TALE 

'THERE  is  nothing  of  the  marvellous  in  what  I  am 
going  to  relate,'  said  the  dismal  man;  'there  is  nothing 
even  uncommon  in  it.  Want  and  sickness  are  too 
common  in  many  stations  of  life,  to  deserve  more  no- 
tice than  is  usually  bestowed  on  the  most  ordinary 
vicissitudes  of  human  nature.  I  have  thrown  these 
few  notes  together,  because  the  subject  of  them  was 
well  known  to  me  for  many  years.  I  traced  his  prog- 
ress downwards,  step  by  step,  until  at  last  he  reached 


46 

that  excess  of  destitution  from  which  he  never  rose 
again* 

'The  man  of  whom  I  speak  was  a  low  pantomime 
actor;  and,  like  many  people  of  his  class,  an  habitual 
drunkard.  In  his  better  days,  before  he  had  become 
enfeebled  by  dissipation  and  emaciated  by  disease, 
he  had  been  in  the  receipt  of  a  good  salary,  which,  if 
he  had  been  careful  and  prudent,  he  might  have  con- 
tinued to  receive  for  some  years — not  many;  because 
these  men  either  die  early,  or,  by  unnaturally  taxing 
their  bodily  energies,  lose,  prematurely,  those  physi- 
cal powers  on  which  alone  they  can  depend  for  sub- 
sistence. His  besetting  sin  gained  so  fast  upon  him, 
however,  that  it  was  found  impossible  to  employ  him 
in  the  situations  in  which  he  really  was  useful  to  the 
theatre.  The  public-house  had  a  fascination  for  him 
which  he  could  not  resist.  Neglected  disease  and 
hopeless  poverty  were  as  certain  to  be  his  portion  as 
death  itself,  if  he  persevered  in  the  same  course;  yet 
he  did  persevere,  and  the  result  may  be  guessed.  He 
could  obtain  no  engagement,  and  he  wanted  bread. 

'Everybody  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  theatrical 
matters  knows  what  a  host  of  shabby,  poverty-stricken 
men  hang  about  the  stage  of  a  large  establishment— 
not  regularly  engaged  actors,  but  ballet  people,  pro- 
cession men,  tumblers,  and  so  forth,  who  are  taken  on 
during  the  run  of  a  pantomime,  or  an  Easter  piece, 
and  are  then  discharged,  until  the  production  of  some 
heavy  spectacle  occasions  a  new  demand  for  their 
services.  To  this  mode  of  life  the  man  was  compelled 
to  resort;  and  taking  the  chair  every  night,  at  some 
low  theatrical  house,  at  once  put  him  in  possession 
of  a  few  more  shillings  weekly,  and  enabled  him  to 
gratify  his  old  propensity.  Even  this  resource  shortly 
failed  him ;  his  irregularities  were  too  great  to  admit  of 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  47 

his  earning  the  wretched  pittance  he  might  thus  have 
procured,  and  he  was  actually  reduced  to  a  state  bor- 
dering on  starvation,  only  procuring  a  trifle  occasion- 
ally by  borrowing  it  of  some  old  companion,  or  by  ob- 
taining an  appearance  at  one  or  other  of  the  com- 
monest of  the  minor  theatres;  and  when  he  did  earn 
anything,  it  was  spent  in  the  old  way. 

'About  this  time,  and  when  he  had  been  existing  for 
upwards  of  a  year  no  one  knew  how,  I  had  a  short 
engagement  at  one  of  the  theatres  on  the  Surrey  side 
of  the  water,  and  here  I  saw  this  man  whom  I  had 
lost  sight  of  for  some  time ;  for  I  had  been  travelling 
in  the  provinces,  and  he  had  been  skulking  in  the  lanes 
and  alleys  of  London.  I  was  dressed  to  leave  the 
house,  and  was  crossing  the  stage  on  my  way  out, 
when  he  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder.  Never  shall  I 
forget  the  repulsive  sight  that  met  my  eye  when  I 
turned  round.  He  was  dressed  for  the  pantomime, 
in  all  the  absurdity  of  a  clown's  costume.  The  spec- 
tral figures  in  the  Dance  of  Death,  the  most  frightful 
shapes  that  the  ablest  painter  ever  portrayed  on  can- 
vas, never  presented  an  appearance  half  so  ghastly. 
His  bloated  body  and  shrunken  legs — their  deformity 
enhanced  a  hundred  fold  by  the  fantastic  dress— the 
glassy  eyes,  contrasting  fearfully  with  the  thick  white 
paint  with  which  the  face  was  besmeared;  the  gro- 
tesquely ornamented  head,  trembling  with  paralysis, 
and  the  long,  skinny  hands,  rubbed  with  white  chalk- 
all  gave  him  a  hideous  and  unnatural  appearance,  of 
which  no  description  could  convey  an  adequate  idea, 
and  which,  to  this  day,  I  shudder  to  think  of.  His 
voice  was  hollow  and  tremulous,  as  he  took  me  aside, 
and  in  broken  words  recounted  a  long  catalogue  of 
sickness  and  privations,  terminating  as  usual  with  an 
urgent  request  for  the  loan  of  a  trifling  sum  of  money. 


48  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

I  put  a  few  shillings  in  his  hand,  and  as  I  turned  away 
I  heard  the  roar  of  laughter  which  followed  his  first 
tumble  on  to  the  stage. 

'A  few  nights  afterwards,  a  boy  put  a  dirty  scrap 
of  paper  in  my  hand,  on  which  were  scrawled  a  few 
words  in  pencil,  intimating  that  the  man  was  danger- 
ously ill,  and  begging  me,  after  the  performance,  to 
see  him  at  his  lodging  in  some  street — I  forget  the 
name  of  it  now — at  no  great  distance  from  the  theatre. 
I  promised  to  comply,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  away; 
and,  after  the  curtain  fell,  sallied  forth  on  my  melan- 
choly errand. 

'It  was  late,  for  I  had  been  playing  in  the  last  piece ; 
and  as  it  was  a  benefit  night,  the  performances  had 
been  protracted  to  an  unusual  length.  It  was  a  dark 
cold  night,  with  a  chill  damp  wind,  which  blew  the 
rain  heavily  against  the  windows  and  house  fronts. 
Pools  of  water  had  collected  in  the  narrow  and  little- 
frequented  streets,  and  as  many  of  the  thinly-scattered 
oil-lamps  had  been  blown  out  by  the  violence  of  the 
wind,  the  walk  was  not  only  a  comfortless,  but  most 
uncertain  one.  I  had  fortunately  taken  the  right 
course,  however,  and  succeeded,  after  a  little  difficulty, 
in  finding  the  house  to  which  I  had  been  directed — a 
coal-shed,  with  one  story  above  it,  in  the  back  room  of 
which  lay  the  object  of  my  search. 

' A  wretched-looking  woman,  the  man's  wife,  met  me 
on  the  stairs,  and,  telling  me  that  he  had  just  fallen 
into  a  kind  of  doze,  led  me  softly  in,  and  placed  a 
chair  for  me  at  the  bedside.  The  sick  man  was  ly- 
ing with  his  face  turned  towards  the  wall;  and  as  he 
took  no  heed  of  my  presence,  I  had  leisure  to  observe 
the  place  in  which  I  found  myself. 

'He  was  lying  on  an  old  bedstead,  which  turned  up 
during  the  day.  The  tattered  remains  of  a  checked 
curtain  were  drawn  round  the  bed's  head,  to  exclude 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  49 

the  wind,  which  however  made  its  way  into  the  com- 
fortless room  through  the  numerous  chinks  in  the 
door,  and  blew  it  to  and  fro  every  instant.  There  was 
a  low  cinder  fire  in  a  rusty  unfixed  grate ;  and  an  old 
three-cornered  stained  table,  with  some  medicine 
bottles,  a  broken  glass,  and  a  few  other  domestic 
articles,  was  drawn  out  before  it.  A  little  child  was 
sleeping  on  a  temporary  bed  which  had  been  made  for 
it  on  the  floor,  and  the  woman  sat  on  a  chair  by  its 
side.  There  were  a  couple  of  shelves,  with  a  few 
plates  and  cups  and  saucers :  and  a  pair  of  stage  shoes 
and  a  couple  of  foils  hung  beneath  them.  With  the 
exception  of  little  heaps  of  rags  and  bundles  which 
had  been  carelessly  thrown  into  the  corners  of  the 
room,  these  were  the  only  things  in  the  apartment. 

'I  had  had  time  to  note  these  little  particulars,  and 
to  mark  the  heavy  breathing  and  feverish  startings 
of  the  sick  man,  before  he  was  aware  of  my  presence. 
In  his  restless  attempts  to  procure  some  easy  resting- 
place  for  his  head,  he  tossed  his  hand  out  of  the  bed, 
and  it  fell  on  mine.  He  started  up,  and  stared 
eagerly  in  my  face. 

'  "Mr.  Hutley,  John,"  said  his  wife,  "Mr.  Hutley, 
that  you  sent  for  to-night,  you  know." 

'  "Ah!"  said  the  invalid,  passing  his  hand  across  his 
forehead;  "Hutley— Hutley— let  me  see."  He 
seemed  endeavouring  to  collect  his  thoughts  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then  grasping  me  tightly  by  the  wrist 
said,  "Don't  leave  me — don't  leave  me,  old  fellow. 
She  '11  murder  me;  I  know  she  will." 

'  "Has  he  been  long  so?"  said  I,  addressing  his  weep- 
ing wife. 

'"Since    yesterday    night,"    she    replied.     "John, 

John,  don't  you  know  me?" 

*  "Don't  let  her  come  near  me,"  said  the  man,  with 
a  shudder,  as  she  stooped  over  him.  "Drive  her  away ; 


50  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

I  can't  bear  her  near  me."  He  stared  wildly  at  her, 
with  a  look  of  deadly  apprehension,  and  then  whis- 
pered in  my  ear,  "I  beat  her,  Jem;  I  beat  her  yester- 
day, and  many  times  before.  I  have  starved  her  and 
the  boy  too;  and  now  I  am  weak  and  helpless,  Jem, 
she  '11  murder  me  for  it;  I  know  she  will.  If  you  'd 
seen  her  cry,  as  I  have,  you  'd  know  it  too.  Keep 
her  off."  He  relaxed  his  grasp,  and  sank  back  ex- 
hausted on  the  pillow. 

'I  knew  but  too  well  what  all  this  meant.  If  I 
could  have  entertained  any  doubt  of  it,  for  an  instant, 
one  glance  at  the  woman's  pale  face  and  wasted  form 
would  have  sufficiently  explained  the  real  state  of  the 
case.  "You  had  better  stand  aside,"  said  I  to  the  poor 
creature.  "You  can  do  him  no  good.  Perhaps  he 
will  be  calmer,  if  he  does  not  see  you."  She  retired 
out  of  the  man's  sight.  He  opened  his  eyes,  after  a 
few  seconds,  and  looked  anxiously  round. 
"Is  she  gone?"  he  eagerly  inquired. 
"Yes — yes,"  said  I;  "she  shall  not  hurt  you." 
"I  '11  tell  you  what,  Jem,"  said  the  man,  in  a  low 
voice,  "she  does  hurt  me.  There  's  something  in  her 
eyes  wakes  such  a  dreadful  fear  in  my  heart,  that 
it  drives  me  mad.  All  last  night,  her  large  staring 
eyes  and  pale  face  were  close  to  mine;  wherever  I 
turned,  they  turned;  and  whenever  I  started  up  from 
my  sleep,  she  was  at  the  bedside  looking  at  me."  He 
drew  me  closer  to  him,  as  he  said  in  a  deep,  alarmed 
whisper — "Jem,  she  must  be  an  evil  spirit — a  devil! 
Hush;  I  know  she  is.  If  she  had  been  a  woman  she 
would  have  died  long  ago.  No  woman  could  have 
borne  what  she  has." 

'I  sickened  at  the  thought  of  the  long  course  of 
cruelty  and  neglect  which  must  have  occurred  to  pro- 
duce such  an  impression  on  such  a  man.  I  could  say 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  51 

nothing  in  reply;  for  who  could  offer  hope,  or  con- 
solation, to  the  abject  being  before  me? 

'I  sat  there  for  upwards  of  two  hours,  during  which 
time  he  tossed  about,  murmuring  exclamations  of  pain 
or  impatience,  restlessly  throwing  his  arms  here  and 
there,  and  turning  constantly  from  side  to  side.  At 
length  he  fell  into  that  state  of  partial  unconscious- 
ness, in  which  the  mind  wanders  uneasily  from  scene 
to  scene,  and  from  place  to  place,  without  the  control 
of  reason,  but  still  without  being  able  to  divest  itself 
of  an  indescribable  sense  of  present  suffering.  Find- 
ing from  his  incoherent  wanderings  that  this  was  the 
case,  and  knowing  that  in  all  probability  the  fever 
would  not  grow  immediately  worse,  I  left  him,  promis- 
ing his  miserable  wife  that  I  would  repeat  my  visit 
next  evening,  and,  if  necessary,  sit  up  with  the 
patient  during  the  night. 

'I  kept  my  promise.  That  last  four-and-twenty 
hours  had  produced  a  frightful  alteration.  The  eyes, 
though  deeply  sunk  and  heavy,  shone  with  a  lustre 
frightful  to  behold.  The  lips  were  parched,  and 
cracked  in  many  places:  the  dry  hard  skin  glowed 
with  a  burning  heat,  and  there  was  an  almost  un- 
earthly air  of  wild  anxiety  in  the  man's  face,  indicating 
even  more  strongly  the  ravages  of  the  disease.  The 
fever  was  at  its  height. 

'I  took  the  seat  I  had  occupied  the  night  before, 
and  there  I  sat  for  hours,  listening  to  sounds  which 
must  strike  deep  to  the  heart  of  the  most  callous  among 
human  beings — the  awful  ravings  of  a  dying  man. 
From  what  I  had  heard  of  the  medical  attendant's 
opinion,  I  knew  there  was  no  hope  for  him :  I  was  sit- 
ting by  his  death-bed.  I  saw  the  wasted  limbs,  which 
a  few  hours  before  had  been  distorted  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  a  boisterous  gallery,  writhing  under  the  tor- 


52  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tures  of  a  burning  fever — I  heard  the  clown  s  shrill 
laugh,  blenoling  with  the  low  murmurings  of  the  dy- 
ing man. 

'It  is  a  touching  thing  to  hear  the  mind  reverting 
to  the  ordinary  occupations  and  pursuits  of  health, 
when  the  body  lies  before  you  weak  and  helpless ;  but 
when  those  occupations  are  of  a  character  the  most 
strongly  opposed  to  anything  we  associate  with  grave 
or  solemn  ideas,  the  impression  produced  is  infinitely 
more  powerful.  The  theatre,  and  the  public-house, 
were  the  chief  themes  of  the  wretched  man's  wander- 
ings. It  was  evening,  he  fancied;  he  had  a  part  to 
play  that  night;  it  was  late,  and  he  must  leave  home 
instantly.  Why  did  they  hold  him,  and  prevent  his 
going? — he  should  lose  the  money — he  must  go.  No! 
they  would  not  let  him.  He  hid  his  face  in  his  burn- 
ing hands,  and  feebly  bemoaned  his  own  weakness,  and 
the  cruelty  of  his  persecutors.  A  short  pause,  and  he 
shouted  out  a  few  dbggrel  rhymes — the  last  he  had 
ever  learnt.  He  rose  in  bed,  drew  up  his  withered 
limbs,  and  rolled  about  in  uncouth  positions;  he  was 
acting — he  was  at  the  theatre.  A  minute's  silence, 
and  he  murmured  the  burden  of  some  roaring  song. 
He  had  reached  the  old  house  at  last:  how  hot  the 
room  was.  He  had  been  ill,  very  ill,  but  he  was  well 
now,  and  happy.  Fill  up  his  glass.  Who  was  that, 
that  dashed  it  from  his  lips?  It  was  the  same  perse- 
cutor that  had  followed  him  before.  He  fell  back 
upon  his  pillow  and  moaned  aloud.  A  short  period 
of  oblivion,  and  he  was  wandering  through  a  tedious 
maze  of  low  arched-rooms — so  low,  sometimes,  that  he 
must  creep  upon  his  hands  and  knees  to  make  his  way 
along;  it  was  close  and  dark,  and  every  way  he  turned, 
some  obstacle  impeded  his  progress.  There  were  in- 
sects too,  hideous  crawling  things  with  eyes  that  starecf 
upon  him,  and  filled  the  very  air  around:  glistening 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  53 

horribly  amidst  the  thick  darkness  of  the  place.  The 
walls  and  ceiling  were  alive  with  reptiles — the  vault 
expanded  to  an  enormous  size — frightful  figures  flit- 
ted to  and  fro — and  the  faces  of  men  he  knew,  ren- 
dered hideous  by  gibing  and  mouthing,  peered  out 
from  among  them;  they  were  searing  him  with  heated 
irons,  and  binding  his  head  with  cords  till  the  blood 
started ;  and  he  struggled  madly  for  life. 

'At  the  close  of  one  of  these  paroxysms,  when  I 
had  with  great  difficulty  held  him  down  in  his  bed,  he 
sank  into  what  appeared  to  be  a  slumber.  Over- 
powered with  watching  and  exertion,  I  had  closed  my 
eyes  for  a  few  minutes,  when  I  felt  a  violent  clutch 
on  my  shoulder.  I  awoke  instantly.  He  had  raised 
himself  up,  so  as  to  seat  himself  in  bed — a  dreadful 
change  had  come  over  his  face,  but  consciousness 
had  returned,  for  he  evidently  knew  me.  The  child 
who  had  been  long  since  disturbed  by  his  ravings, 
rose  from  its  little  bed,  and  ran  towards  its  father, 
screaming  with  fright — the  mother  hastily  caught  it 
in  her  arms,  lest  he  should  injure  it  in  the  violence  of 
his  insanity ;  but,  terrified  by  the  alteration  of  his  fea- 
tures, stood  transfixed  by  the  bedside.  He  grasped 
my  shoulder  convulsively,  and,  striking  his  breast  with 
the  other  hand,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  articulate. 
It  wras  unavailing — he  extended  his  arm  towards  them, 
and  made  another  violent  effort.  There  was  a 
rattling  noise  in  the  throat — a  glare  of  the  eye —  a 
short  stifled  groan — and  he  fell  back — dead!' 

It  would  afford  us  the  highest  gratification  to  be 
enabled  to  record  Mr.  Pickwick's  opinion  of  the  fore- 
going anecdote.  We  have  little  doubt  that  we  should 
have  been  enabled  to  present  it  to  our  readers,  but  for 
a  most  unfortunate  occurrence. 

Mi.  Pickwick  had  replaced  on  the  table  the  glass 


54  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

which,  during  the  last  few  sentences  of  the  tale,  he 
had  retained  in  his  hand;  and  had  just  made  up  his 
mind  to  speak — indeed,  we  have  the  authority  of  Mr. 
Snodgrass's  note-book  for  stating,  that  he  had  actually 
opened  his  mouth — when  the  waiter  entered  the  room, 
and  said — 

'Some  gentlemen,  sir.' 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  on 
the  point  of  delivering  some  remarks  which  would 
have  enlightened  the  world,  if  not  the  Thames,  when 
he  was  thus  interrupted:  for  he  gazed  sternly  on  the 
waiter's  countenance,  and  then  looked  round  on  the 
company  generally,  as  if  seeking  for  information 
relative  to  the  new  comers. 

'Oh!'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rising,  'some  friends  of 
mine — show  them  in.  Very  pleasant  fellows,'  added 
Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  waiter  had  retired — 'Officers 
of  the  97th,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  rather  oddly 
this  morning.  You  will  like  them  very  much.' 

Mr.  Pickwick's  equanimity  was  at  once  restored. 
The  waiter  returned,  and  ushered  three  gentlemen  into 
the  room. 

'Lieutenant  Tappleton,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  'Lieu- 
tenant Tappleton,  Mr.  Pickwick — Doctor  Payne, 
Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Snodgrass,  you  have  seen  before : 
my  friend,  Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Payne — Dr.  Slam- 
mer, Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Slam — ' 

Here  Mr.  Winkle  suddenly  paused;  for  strong 
emotion  was  visible  on  the  countenance  both  of  Mr. 
Tupman  and  the  Doctor. 

'I  have  met  this  gentleman  before,'  said  the  Doctor, 
with  marked  emphasis. 

'Indeed!'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'And — and  that  person,  too,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,' 
said  the  Doctor,  bestowing  a  scrutinising  glance  on  the 
green-coated  stranger.  'I  think  I  gave  that  person  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  55 

very  pressing  invitation  last  night,  which  he  thought 
proper  to  decline.'  Saying  which  the  Doctor  scowled 
magnanimously  on  the  stranger,  and  whispered  his 
friend  Lieutenant  Tappleton. 

'You  don't  say  so?'  said  that  gentleman,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  whisper. 

'I  do,  indeed,'  replied  Doctor  Slammer. 

'You  are  bound  to  kick  him  on  the  spot,'  murmured 
the  owner  of  the  camp-stool  with  great  importance. 

fDo  be  quiet,  Payne,'  interposed  the  Lieutenant. 
'Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  sir,'  he  said,  addressing 
Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  considerably  mystified  by  this 
very  unpolite  by-play,  'will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you, 
sir,  whether  that  person  belongs  to  your  party?' 

'No,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'he  is  a  guest  of 
ours.' 

'He  is  a  member  of  your  club,  or  I  am  mistaken?' 
said  the  Lieutenant,  inquiringly. 

'Certainly  not,'  responded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'And  never  wears  your  club-button?'  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant. 

'No — never !'  replied  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Lieutenant  Tappleton  turned  round  to  his  friend 
Doctor  Slammer,  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  shrug  of 
the  shoulder,  as  if  implying  some  doubt  of  the  accu- 
racy of  his  recollection.  The  little  Doctor  looked 
wrathful,  but  confounded;  and  Mr.  Payne  gazed  with 
a  ferocious  aspect  on  the  beaming  countenance  of  the 
unconscious  Pickwick. 

'Sir,'  said  the  Doctor,  suddenly  addressing  Mr. 
Tupman,  in  a  tone  which  made  that  gentleman  start 
as  perceptibly  as  if  a  pin  had  been  cunningly  inserted 

in  the  calf  of  his  leg,  'y°u  were  at  the  bal1  here  Ia5t 
night!' 

Mr.  Tupmari  gasped  a  faint  affirmative,  looking 
very  hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick  all  the  while. 


56  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'That  person  was  your  companion,'  said  the  Doctor, 
pointing  to  the  still  unmoved  stranger. 

Mr.  Tupman  admitted  the  fact. 

'Now,  sir,'  said  the  Doctor  to  the  stranger,  'I  ask 
you  once  again,  in  the  presence  of  these  gentlemen, 
whether  you  choose  to  give  me  your  card,  and  to  re- 
ceive the  treatment  of  a  gentleman;  or  whether  you 
impose  upon  me  the  necessity  of  personally  chastising 
you  on  the  spot?' 

'Stay,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  really  cannot  allow 
this  matter  to  go  any  further  without  some  explana- 
tion. Tupman,  recount  the  circumstances.' 

Mr.  Tupman,  thus  solemnly  abjured,  stated  the 
case  in  a  few  words;  touched  slightly  on  the  borrow- 
ing of  the  coat ;  expatiated  largely  on  its  having  been 
done  'after  dinner';  wound  up  with  a  little  penitence 
on  his  own  account ;  and  left  the  stranger  to  clear  him- 
self as  he  best  could. 

He  was  apparently  about  to  proceed  to  do  so,  when 
Lieutenant  Tappleton,  who  had  been  eyeing  him  with 
great  curiosity,  said  with  considerable  scorn — 
'Haven't  I  seen  you  at  the  theatre,  sir?J 

'Certainly,'  replied  the  unabashed  stranger. 

'He  is  a  strolling  actor,'  said  the  Lieutenant,  con- 
temptuously, turning  to  Dr.  Slammer.  'He  acts  in 
the  piece  that  the  Officers  of  the  52nd  get  up  at  the 
Rochester  Theatre  to-morrow  night.  You  cannot 
proceed  in  this  affair,  Slammer — impossible !' 

'Quite!'  said  the  dignified  Payne. 

'Sorry  to  have  placed  you  in  this  disagreeable  situa- 
tion,' said  Lieutenant  Tappleton,  addressing  Mr. 
Pickwick;  'allow  me  to  suggest,  that  the  best  way  of 
avoiding  a  recurrence  of  such  scenes  in  the  future, 
will  be  to  be  more  select  in  the  choice  of  your  com- 
panions. Good  evening,  sir!'  and  the  Lieutenant 
bounced  out  of  the  room. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  57 

'And  allow  me  to  say,  sir,'  said  the  irascible  Doctoi 
Payne,  'that  if  I  had  been  Tappleton,  or  if  I  had  been 
Slammer,  I  would  have  pulled  your  nose,  sir,  and  the 
nose  of  every  man  in  this  company.  I  would,  sir, 
every  man.  Payne  is  my  name,  sir — Doctor  Payne  of 
the  43rd.  Good  evening,  sir.'  Having  concluded 
this  speech,  and  uttered  the  three  last  words  in  a 
loud  key,  he  stalked  majestically  after  his  friend, 
closely  followed  by  Doctor  Slammer,  who  said  noth- 
ing, but  contented  himself  by  withering  the  company 
with  a  look. 

Rising  rage  and  extreme  bewilderment  had  swelled 
the  noble  breast  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  to  the  burst- 
ing of  his  waistcoat,  during  the  delivery  of  the  above 
defiance.  He  stood  transfixed  to  the  spot,  gazing  on 
vacancy.  The  closing  of  the  door  recalled  him  to  him- 
self. He  rushed  forward  with  fury  in  his  looks,  and 
fire  in  his  eye.  His  hand  was  upon  the  lock  of  the 
door;  in  another  instant  it  would  have  been  on  the 
throat  of  Doctor  Payne  of  the  43rd,  had  not  Mr. 
Snodgrass  seized  his  revered  leader  by  the  coat  tail, 
and  dragged  him  backwards. 

'Restrain  him,'  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  'Winkle,  Tup- 
man — he  must  not  peril  his  distinguished  life  in  such 
a  cause  as  this.' 

'Let  me  go,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Hold  him  tight,'  shouted  Mr.  Snodgrass;  and  by 
the  united  efforts  of  the  whole  company,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  forced  into  an  arm-chair. 

'Leave  him  alone,'  said  the  green-coated  stranger 
— 'brandy-and-water — jolly  old  gentleman — lots  of 
pluck — swallow  this — ah! — capital  stuff.'  Having 
previously  tested  the  virtues  of  a  bumper,  which  had 
been  mixed  by  the  dismal  man,  the  stranger  applied 
the  glass  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth;  and  the  remainder 
of  its  contents  rapidly  disappeared. 


58  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

There  was  a  short  pause ;  the  brandy-and-water  had 
done  its  work;  the  amiable  countenance  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, was  fast  recovering  its  customary  expression. 

'They  are  not  worth  your  notice,'  said  the  dismal 
man. 

'You  are  right,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'they 
are  not.  I  am  ashamed  to  have  been  betrayed  into  this 
warmth  of  feeling.  Draw  your  chair  up  to  the  table, 
sir.' 

The  dismal  man  readily  complied ;  a  circle  was  again 
formed  round  the  table,  and  harmony  once  more  pre- 
vailed. Some  lingering  irritability  appeared  to  find  a 
resting-place  in  Mr.  Winkle's  bosom,  occasioned  pos- 
sibly by  the  temporary  abstraction  of  his  coat — though 
it  is  scarcely  reasonable  to  suppose  that  so  slight  a  cir- 
cumstance can  have  excited  even  a  passing  feeling  of 
anger  in  a  Pickwickian  breast.  With  this  exception, 
their  good  humour  was  completely  restored;  and  the 
evening  concluded  with  the  conviviality  with  which  it 
had  begun. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A     FIELD-DAY     AND     BIVOUAC.      MORE     NEW     FRIENDS. 
AN    INVITATION   TO  THE   COUNTRY 

MANY  authors  entertain,  not  only  a  foolish,  but  a  really 
dishonest  objection  to  acknowledge  the  sources  from 
whence  they  derive  much  valuable  information.  We 
have  no  such  feeling.  We  are  merely  endeavouring  to 
discharge,  in  an  upright  manner,  the  responsible  duties 
of  our  editorial  functions;  and  whatever  ambition  we 
might  have  felt  under  other  circumstances  to  lay  claim 
to  the  authorship  of  these  adventures,  a  regard  for 
truth  forbids  us  to  do  more  than  claim  the  merit  of 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  59 

their  judicious  arrangement  and  impartial  narration. 
The  Pickwick  papers  are  our  New  River  Head;  and 
we  may  be  compared  to  the  New  River  Company. 
The  labours  of  others  have  raised  for  us  an  immense 
reservoir  of  important  facts.  We  merely  lay  them 
on,  and  communicate  them,  in  a  clear  and  gentle 
stream,  through  the  medium  of  these  numbers,  to  a 
world  thirsting  for  Pickwickian  knowledge. 

Acting  in  this  spirit,  and  resolutely  proceeding  on 
our  determination  to  avow  our  obligations  to  the  au- 
thorities we  have  consulted,  we  frankly  say,  that  to  the 
note-book  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  are  we  indebted  for  the 
particulars  recorded  in  this,  and  the  succeeding  chap- 
ter— particulars  which,  now  that  we  have  disburdened 
our  conscience,  we  shall  proceed  to  detail  without  fur- 
ther comment. 

The  whole  population  of  Rochester  and  the  adjoin- 
ing towns  rose  from  their  beds  at  an  early  hour  of  the 
following  morning,  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  bustle  and 
excitement.  A  grand  review  was  to  take  place  upon 
the  Lines.  The  manoeuvres  of  half  a  dozen  regi- 
ments were  to  be  inspected  by  the  eagle  eye  of  the 
commander-in-chief ;  temporary  fortifications  had  been 
erected,  the  citadel  was  to  be  attacked  and  taken,  and 
a  mine  was  to  be  sprung. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was,  as  our  readers  may  have  gath- 
ered from  the  slight  extract  we  gave  from  his  de- 
scription of  Chatham,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the 
army.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  delightful  to 
him — nothing  could  have  harmonised  so  well  with 
the  peculiar  feeling  of  each  of  his  companions — as 
this  sight.  Accordingly  they  were  soon  afoot,  and 
walking  in  the  direction  of  the  scene  of  action,  to- 
wards which  crowds  of  people  were  already  pouring 
from  a  variety  of  quarters. 

The  appearance  of  everything  on  the  Lines  de* 


60  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

noted  that  the  approaching  ceremony  was  one  of  the 
utmost  grandeur  and  importance.  There  were  sen- 
tries posted  to  keep  the  ground  for  the  troops,  and 
servants  on  the  batteries  keeping  places  for  the  ladies, 
and  sergeants  running  to  and  fro,  with  vellum-covered 
books  under  their  arms,  and  Colonel  Bulder,  in  full 
military  uniform,  on  horseback,  galloping  first  to  one 
place  and  then  to  another,  and  backing  his  horse 
among  the  people,  and  prancing  and  curvetting,  and 
shouting  in  a  most  alarming  manner,  and  making  him- 
self very  hoarse  in  the  voice,  and  very  red  in  the  face, 
without  any  assignable  cause  or  reason  whatever. 
Officers  were  running  backwards  and  forwards,  first 
communicating  with  Colonel  Bulder,  and  then  order- 
ing the  sergeants,  and  then  running  away  altogether; 
and  even  the  very  privates  themselves  looked  from  be- 
hind their  glazed  stocks  with  an  air  of  mysterious 
solemnity,  which  sufficiently  bespoke  the  special  nature 
of  the  occasion. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  stationed 
themselves  in  the  front  rank  of  the  crowd,  and  pa- 
tiently awaited  the  commencement  of  the  proceedings. 
The  throng  was  increasing  every  moment;  and  the 
efforts  they  were  compelled  to  make,  to  retain  the  posi- 
tion they  had  gained,  sufficiently  occupied  their  atten- 
tion during  the  two  hours  that  ensued.  At  one  time 
there  was  a  sudden  pressure  from  behind;  and  then 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  jerked  forward  for  several  yards, 
with  a  degree  of  speed  and  elasticity  highly  incon- 
sistent with  the  general  gravity  of  his  demeanour;  at 
another  moment  there  was  a  request  to  'keep  back' 
from  the  front,  and  then  the  butt-end  of  a  musket 
was  either  dropped  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  toe,  to  re- 
mind him  of  the  demand,  or  thrust  into  his  chest,  to 
ensure  its  being  complied  with.  Then  some  facetious 
gentlemen  on  the  left,  after  pressing  sideways  in  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  61 

body,  and  squeezing  Mr.  Snodgrass  into  the  very  last 
extreme  of  human  torture,  would  request  to  know 
Vere  he  vos  a  shovin'  to' ;  and  when  Mr.  Winkle  had 
done  expressing  his  excessive  indignation  at  witness- 
ing this  unprovoked  assault,  some  person  behind  would 
knock  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  beg  the  favour  of 
his  putting  his  head  in  his  pocket.  These,  and  other 
practical  witticisms,  coupled  with  the  unaccountable 
absence  of  Mr.  Tupman  (who  had  suddenly  disap- 
peared, and  was  nowhere  to  be  found) ,  rendered  their 
situation  upon  the  whole  rather  more  uncomfortable 
than  pleasing  or  desirable. 

At  length  that  low  roar  of  many  voices  ran  through 
the  crowd,  which  usually  announces  the  arrival  of 
whatever  they  have  been  waiting  for.  All  eyes  were 
turned  in  the  direction  of  the  sally-port.  A  few  mo- 
ments of  eager  expectation,  and  colours  were  seen 
fluttering  gaily  in  the  air,  arms  glistened  brightly  in 
the  sun,  column  after  column  poured  on  to  the  plain. 
The  troops  halted  and  formed ;  the  word  of  command 
rung  through  the  line,  there  was  a  general  clash  of 
muskets  as  arms  were  presented;  and  the  commander- 
in-chief,  attended  by  Colonel  Bulder  and  numerous 
officers,  cantered  to  the  front.  The  military  bands 
struck  up  all  together;  the  horses  stood  upon  two  legs 
each,  cantered  backwards,  and  whisked  their  tails  about 
in  all  directions;  the  dogs  barked,  the  mob  screamed, 
the  troops  recovered,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  on 
either  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  but  a  long 
perspective  of  red  coats  and  white  trousers,  fixed  and 
motionless. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  fully  occupied  in  falling 
about,  and  disentangling  himself,  miraculously,  from 
between  the  legs  of  horses,  that  he  had  not  enjoyed 
sufficient  leisure  to  observe  the  scene  before  him,  until 
it  assumed  the  appearance  we  have  just  described. 


62  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

When  he  was  at  last  enabled  to  stand  firmly  on  his 
legs,  his  gratification  and  delight  were  unbounded. 

'Can  anything  be  finer  or  more  delightful?'  he  in- 
quired of  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Nothing,'  replied  that  gentleman,  who  had  had  a 
short  man  standing  on  each  of  his  feet  for  the  quarter 
of  an  hour  immediately  preceding. 

'It  is  indeed  a  noble  and  a  brilliant  sight,'  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  in  whose  bosom  a  blaze  of  poetry  was 
rapidly  bursting  forth,  'to  see  the  gallant  defenders 
of  their  country  drawn  up  in  brilliant  array  before  its 
peaceful  citizens;  their  faces  beaming — not  with  war- 
like ferocity,  but  with  civilised  gentleness;  their  eyes 
flashing — not  with  the  rude  fire  of  rapine  or  revenge, 
but  with  the  soft  light  of  humanity  and  intelligence.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of  this 
eulogium,  but  he  could  not  exactly  re-echo  its  terms; 
for  the  soft  light  of  intelligence  burnt  rather  feebly 
in  the  eyes  of  the  warriors,  inasmuch  as  the  command 
'eyes  front'  had  been  given,  and  all  the  spectator  saw 
before  him  was  several  thousand  pair  of  optics,  staring 
straight  forward,  wholly  divested  of  any  expression 
whatever. 

'We  are  in  a  capital  situation  now,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  round  him.  The  «rowd  had  gradually 
dispersed  in  their  immediate  vicinity,  and  they  were 
nearly  alone. 

'Capital!'  echoed  both  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle. 

'What  are  they  doing  now?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick 
adjusting  his  spectacles. 

'I — I — rather  think,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  changing 
colour — 'I  rather  think  they  're  going  to  fire.' 

'Nonsense,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

*I — I — really  think  they  are,'  urged  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
somewhat  alarmed. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  63 

'Impossible,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  had  hardly 
uttered  the  word,  when  the  whole  half-dozen  regiments 
levelled  their  muskets  as  if  they  had  but  one  common 
object,  and  that  object  the  Pickwickians,  and  burst 
forth  with  the  most  awful  and  tremendous  discharge 
that  ever  shook  the  earth  to  its  centre,  or  an  elderly 
gentleman  off  his. 

It  wras  in  this  trying  situation,  exposed  to  a  galling 
fire  of  blank  cartridges,  and  harassed  by  the  opera- 
tions of  the  military,  a  fresh  body  of  whom  had  begun 
to  fall  in  on  the  opposite  side,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  dis- 
played that  perfect  coolness  and  self-possession,  which 
are  the  indispensable  accompaniments  of  a  great  mind. 
He  seized  Mr.  Winkle  by  the  arm,  and  placing  him- 
self between  that  gentleman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
earnestly  besought  them  to  remember  that  beyond  the 
possibility  of  being  rendered  deaf  by  the  noise,  there 
was  no  immediate  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the 
firing. 

'But — but — suppose  some  of  the  men  should  hap- 
pen to  have  ball  cartridges  by  mistake,'  remonstrated 
Mr.  Winkle,  pallid  at  the  supposition  he  was  himself 
conjuring  up.  'I  heard  something  whistle  through 
the  air  just  now — so  sharp;  close  to  my  ear.' 

'We  had  better  throw  ourselves  on  our  faces,  hadn't 
we?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'No,  no — it 's  over  now,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  His 
lip  might  quiver,  and  his  cheek  might  blanch,  but  no 
expression  of  fear  or  concern  escaped  the  lips  of  that 
immortal  man. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  right;  the  firing  ceased;  but  he 
had  scarcely  time  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  ac- 
curacy of  his  opinion,  when  a  quick  movement  was 
visible  in  the  line ;  the  hoarse  shout  of  the  word  of  com- 
mand ran  along  it,  and  before  either  of  the  party  could 
form  a  guess  at  the  meaning  of  this  new  manoeuvre, 


64  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  whole  of  the  half-dozen  regiments,  with  fixed 
bayonets,  charged  at  double  quick  time  down  upon  the 
very  spot  on  which  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were 
stationed. 

Man  is  but  mortal:  and  there  is  a  point  beyond 
which  human  courage  cannot  extend.  Mr.  Pickwick 
gazed  through  his  spectacles  for  an  instant  on  the  ad- 
vancing mass,  and  then  fairly  turned  his  back  and— 
we  will  not  say  fled;  firstly,  because  it  is  an  ignoble 
term,  and,  secondly,  because  Mr.  Pickwick's  figure 
was  by  no  means  adapted  for  that  mode  of  retreat- 
he  trotted  away,  at  as  quick  a  rate  as  his  legs  would 
convey  him;  so  quickly,  indeed,  that  he  did  not  per- 
ceive the  awkwardness  of  his  situation,  to  the  full 
extent,  until  too  late. 

The  opposite  troops,  whose  f  alling-in  had  perplexed 
Mr.  Pickwick  a  few  seconds  before,  were  drawn  up 
to  repel  the  mimic  attack  of  the  sham  besiegers  of  the 
citadel;  and  the  consequence  was  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  two  companions  found  themselves  suddenly 
inclosed  between  two  lines  of  great  length,  the  one 
advancing  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  the  other  firmly  wait- 
ing the  collision  in  hostile  array. 

'Hoi!'  shouted  the  officers  of  the  advancing  line. 

'Get  out  of  the  way,'  cried  the  officers  of  the  sta- 
tionary one. 

'Where  are  we  to  go  to?'  screamed  the  agitated 
Pickwickians. 

'Hoi — hoi — hoi!'  was  the  only  reply.  There  was  a 
moment  of  intense  bewilderment,  a  heavy  tramp  of 
footsteps,  a  violent  concussion,  a  smothered  laugh ;  the 
half-dozen  regiments  were  half  a  thousand  yards  off, 
and  the  soles  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  were  elevated 
in  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  had  each  performed 
a  compulsory  somerset  with  remarkable  agility,  wher 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  65 

the  first  object  that  met  the  eyes  of  the  latter  as  he 
sat  on  the  ground,  staunching  with  a  yellow  silk  hand- 
kerchief the  stream  of  life  which  issued  from  his  nose, 
was  his  venerated  leader  at  some  distance  off,  running 
after  his  own  hat,  which  was  gamboling  playfully 
away  in  perspective. 

There  are  very  few  moments  in  a  man's  existence 
when  he  experiences  so  much  ludicrous  distress,  or 
meets  with  so  little  charitable  commiseration,  as  when 
he  is  in  pursuit  of  his  own  hat.  A  vast  deal  of  cool- 
ness, and  a  peculiar  degree  of  judgment,  are  requisite 
in  catching  a  hat.  A  man  must  not  be  precipitate, 
or  he  runs  over  it ;  he  must  not  rush  into  the  opposite 
extreme,  or  he  loses  it  altogether.  The  best  way  is, 
to  keep  gently  up  with  the  object  of  pursuit,  to  be 
wary  and  cautious,  to  watch  your  opportunity  well, 
get  gradually  before  it,  then  make  a  rapid  dive,  seize 
it  by  the  crown,  and  stick  it  firmly  on  your  head: 
smiling  pleasantly  all  the  time,  as  if  you  thought  it 
as  good  a  joke  as  anybody  else. 

There  was  a  fine  gentle  wind,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's 
hat  rolled  sportively  before  it.  The  wind  puff ed,  and 
Mr.  Pickwick  puffed,  and  the  hat  rolled  over  and  over 
as  merrily  as  a  lively  porpoise  in  a  strong  tide;  and 
on  it  might  have  rolled,  far  beyond  Mr.  Pickwick's 
reach,  had  not  its  course  been  providentially  stopped, 
just  as  that  gentleman  was  on  the  point  of  resigning 
it  to  its  fate. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  we  say,  was  completely  exhausted, 
and  about  to  give  up  the  chase,  when  the  hat  was 
blown  with  some  violence  against  the  wheel  of  a  car- 
riage, which  was  drawn  up  in  a  line  with  half  a  dozen 
other  vehicles  on  the  spot  to  which  his  steps  had  been 
directed.  Mr.  Pickwick,  perceiving  his  advantage, 
darted  briskly  forward,  secured  his  property,  planted 
it  on  his  head,  and  paused  to  take  breath.  He  had 


66  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

not  been  stationary  half  a  minute,  when  he  heard  his 
own  name  eagerly  pronounced  by  a  voice,  which  he  at 
once  recognised  as  Mr.  Tupman's,  and,  looking  up- 
wards, he  beheld  a  sight  which  filled  him  with  surprise 
and  pleasure. 

In  an  open  barouche,  the  horses  of  which  had  been 
taken  out,  the  better  to  accommodate  it  to  the  crowded 
place,  stood  a  stout  old  gentleman,  in  a  blue  coat  and 
bright  buttons,  corduroy  breeches  and  top  boots,  two 
young  ladies  in  scarfs  and  feathers,  a  young  gentle- 
man apparently  enamoured  of  one  of  the  young  ladies 
in  scarfs  and  feathers,  a  lady  of  doubtful  age,  prob- 
ably the  aunt  of  the  aforesaid,  and  Mr.  Tupman,  as 
easy  and  unconcerned  as  if  he  had  belonged  to  the 
family  from  the  first  moments  of  his  infancy.  Fas- 
tened up  behind  the  barouche  was  a  hamper  of  spacious 
dimensions — one  of  those  hampers  which  always 
awakens  in  a  contemplative  mind  associations  con- 
nected with  cold  fowls,  tongues,  and  bottles  of  wine 
— and  on  the  box  sat  a  fat  and  red-faced  boy,  in  a 
state  of  somnolency,  whom  no  speculative  observer 
could  have  regarded  for  an  .instant  without  setting 
down  as  the  official  dispenser  of  the  contents  of  the 
before-mentioned  hamper,  when  the  proper  time  for 
their  consumption  should  arrive. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  bestowed  a  hasty  glance  on  these 
interesting  objects,  when  he  was  again  greeted  by  his 
faithful  disciple. 

'Pickwick — Pickwick,'  said  Mr.  Tupman:  'come 
up  here.  Make  haste.' 

'Come  along,  sir.  Pray,  come  up,'  said  the  stout 
gentleman.  'Joe ! — damn  that  boy,  he  's  gone  to 
sleep  again. — Joe,  let  down  the  steps.'  The  fat  boy 
rolled  slowly  off  the  box,  let  down  the  steps,  and  held 
the  carriage  door  invitingly  open.  Mr.  Snodgrass 
and  Mr.  Winkle  came  up  at  the  moment. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  67 

'Room  for  you  all,  gentlemen,'  said  the  stout  man. 
'Two  inside,  and  one  out.  Joe,  make  room  for  one 
of  these  gentlemen  on  the  box.  Now,  sir,  come 
along';  and  the  stout  gentleman  extended  his  arm, 
and  pulled  first  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  into  the  barouche  by  main  force.  Mr.  Winkle 
mounted  to  the  box,  the  fat  boy  waddled  to  the  same 
perch,  and  fell  fast  asleep  instantly. 

'Well,  gentlemen,'  said  the  stout  man,  Very  glad 
to  see  you.  Know  you  very  well,  gentlemen,  though 
you  mayn't  remember  me.  I  spent  some  ev'nins  at 
your  club  last  winter — picked  up  my  friend  Mr.  Tup- 
man  here  this  morning,  and  very  glad  I  was  to  see 
him.  Well,  sir,  and  how  are  you?  You  do  look  un- 
common well,  to  be  sure.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment,  and 
cordially  shook  hands  with  the  stout  gentleman  in  the 
top  boots. 

'Well,  and  how  are  you,  sir?'  said  the  stout  gentle- 
man, addressing  Mr.  Snodgrass  with  paternal  anxiety. 
'Charming,  eh?  Well,  that's  right — that's  right. 
And  how  are  you,  sir  (to  Mr.  Winkle)  ?  Well,  I  am 
glad  to  hear  you  say  you  are  well;  very  glad  I  am, 
to  be  sure.  My  daughters,  gentlemen — my  gals  these 
are;  and  that's  my  sister,  Miss  Rachael  Wardle. 
She  's  a  Miss,  she  is ;  and  yet  she  an't  a  Miss — eh,  sir, 
eh?'  And  the  stout  gentleman  playfully  inserted  his 
elbow  between  the  ribs  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  laughed 
very  heartily. 

'Lor,  brother?'  said  Miss  Wardle,  with  a  depreca- 
ting smile. 

'True,  true,'  said  the  stout  gentleman;  'no  one  can 
deny  it.  Gentlemen,  I  beg  your  pardon;  this  is  my 
friend  Mr.  Trundle.  And  now  you  all  know  each 
other,  let 's  be  comfortable  and  happy,  and  see  what 's 
going  forward ;  that 's  what  I  say.'  So  the  stout  gen- 


68  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tleman  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  pulled 
out  his  glass,  and  everybody  stood  up  in  the  carriage, 
and  looked  over  somebody  else's  shoulder  at  the  evolu- 
tions of  the  military. 

Astounding  evolutions  they  were,  one  rank  firing 
over  the  heads  of  another  rank;  and  then  running 
away;  and  then  the  other  rank  firing  over  the  heads 
of  another  rank,  and  running  away  in  their  turn; 
and  then  forming  squares,  with  officers  in  the  centre ; 
and  then  descending  the  trench  on  one  side  with  scal- 
ing ladders,  and  ascending  it  on  the  other  again  by 
the  same  means;  and  knocking  down  barricades  of 
baskets,  and  behaving  in  the  most  gallant  manner 
possible.  Then  there  was  such  a  ramming  down  of 
the  contents  of  enormous  guns  on  the  battery  with  in- 
struments like  magnified  mops;  such  a  preparation 
before  they  were  let  off,  and  such  an  awful  noise  when 
they  did  go,  that  the  air  resounded  with  the  screams 
of  ladies.  The  young  Miss  Wardles  were  so  fright- 
ened, that  Mr.  Trundle  was  actually  obliged  to  hold 
one  of  them  up  in  the  carriage,  while  Mr.  Snodgrass 
supported  the  other,  and  Mr.  Wardle's  sister  suffered 
under  such  a  dreadful  state  of  nervous  alarm,  that 
Mr.  Tupman  found  it  indispensably  necessary  to  put 
his  arm  round  her  waist,  to  keep  her  up  at  all.  Every- 
body was  excited,  except  the  fat  boy,  and  he  slept  as 
soundly  as  if  the  roaring  of  cannon  were  his  ordinary 
lullaby. 

'Joe,  Joe!'  said  the  stout  gentleman,  when  the  cita- 
del was  taken,  and  the  besiegers  and  besieged  sat  down 
to  dinner.  'Damn  that  boy,  he  's  gone  to  sleep  again. 
Be  good  enough  to  pinch  him,  sir — in  the  leg,  if  you 
please;  nothing  else  wakes  him — thank  you.  Undo 
the  hamper,  Joe.' 

The  fat  boy,  who  had  been  effectually  roused  by 
the  compression  of  a  portion  of  his  leg  between  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  69 

finger  and  thumb  of  Mr.  Winkle,  rolled  off  the  box 
once  again,  and  proceeded  to  unpack  the  hamper,  with 
more  expedition  than  could  have  been  expected  from 
his  previous  inactivity. 

'Now,  we  must  sit  close,'  said  the  stout  gentleman. 
After  a  great  many  jokes  about  squeezing  the  ladies' 
sleeves,  and  a  vast  quantity  of  blushing  at  sundry 
jocose  proposals,  that  the  ladies  should  sit  in  the  gen- 
tlemen's laps,  the  whole  party  were  stowed  down  in 
the  barouche;  and  the  stout  gentleman  proceeded  to 
hand  the  things  from  the  fat  boy  (who  had  mounted 
up  behind  for  the  purpose)  into  the  carriage. 

'Now,  Joe,  knives  and  forks.'  The  knives  and 
forks  were  handed  in,  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
inside,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  box,  were  each  fur- 
nished with  those  useful  instruments. 

'Plates,  Joe,  plates.'  A  similar  process  employed 
in  the  distribution  of  the  crockery. 

'Now,  Joe,  the  fowls.  Damn  that  boy;  he  's  gone 
to  sleep  again.  Joe!  Joel'  (Sundry  taps  on  the 
head  with  a  stick,  and  the  fat  boy,  with  some  difficulty, 
roused  from  his  lethargy.)  'Come,  hand  in  the  eat- 
ables.' 

There  was  something  in  the  sound  of  the  last  word 
which  roused  the  unctuous  boy.  He  jumped  up:  and 
the  leaden  eyes,  which  twinkled  behind  his  mountain- 
ous cheeks,  leered  horribly  upon  the  food  as  he  un- 
packed it  from  the  basket. 

'Now  make  haste,'  said  Mr.  Wardle;  for  the  fat 
boy  was  hanging  fondly  over  a  capon,  which  he 
seemed  wholly  unable  to  part  with.  The  boy  sighed 
deeply,  and,  bestowing  an  ardent  gaze  upon  its  plump- 
ness, unwillingly  consigned  it  to  his  master. 

'That 's  right — look  sharp.  Now  the  tongue — now 
the  pigeon-pie.  Take  care  of  that  veal  and  ham- 
mind  the  lobsters — take  the  salad  out  of  the  cloth — 


70  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

give  me  the  dressing.'  Such  were  the  hurried  orders 
which  issued  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Wardle,  as  he 
handed  in  the  different  articles  described,  and  placed 
dishes  in  everybody's  hands,  and  on  everybody's  knees, 
in  endless  number. 

'Now,  an't  this  capital?'  inquired  that  jolly  per- 
sonage, when  the  work  of  destruction  had  commenced. 

'Capital!'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  carving  a  fowl 
on  the  box. 

'Glass  of  wine?' 

'With  the  greatest  pleasure.' 

'You  'd  better  have  a  bottle  to  yourself,  up  there, 
hadn't  you?' 

'You  're  very  good.' 

'Joe!' 

'Yes,  sir.'  (He  wasn't  asleep  this  time,  having 
just  succeeded  in  abstracting  a  veal  patty.) 

'Bottle  of  wine  to  the  gentleman  on  the  box.  Glad 
to  see  you,  sir.' 

'Thank  'ee.'  Mr.  Winkle  emptied  his  glass,  and 
placed  the  bottle  on  the  coach-box,  by  his  side. 

'Will  you  permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure,  sir?'  said 
Mr.  Trundle  to  Mr.  Winkle. 

'With  great  pleasure,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  to  Mr. 
Trundle :  and  then  the  two  gentlemen  took  wine,  after 
which  they  took  a  glass  of  wine  round,  ladies  and  all. 

'How  dear  Emily  is  flirting  with  the  strange  gen- 
tleman,' whispered  the  spinster  aunt,  with  true 
spinster-aunt-like  envy,  to  her  brother  Mr.  Wardle. 

'Oh!  I  don't  know,'  said  the  jolly  old  gentleman; 
'all  very  natural,  I  dare  say — nothing  unusual.  Mr. 
Pickwick,  some  wine,  sir?'  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had 
been  deeply  investigating  the  interior  of  the  pigeon- 
pie,  readily  assented. 

'Emily,  my  dear,'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  a 
patronising  air,  'don't  talk  so  loud,  love.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  71 

'Lor,  aunt !' 

'Aunt  and  the  little  old  gentleman  want  to  have  it 
all  to  themselves,  I  think,'  whispered  Miss  Isabella 
Wardle  to  her  sister  Emily.  The  young  ladies 
laughed  very  heartily,  and  the  old  one  tried  to  look 
amiable,  but  couldn't  manage  it. 

'Young  girls  have  such  spirits/  said  Miss  Wardle 
to  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  air  of  gentle  commiseration, 
as  if  animal  spirits  were  contraband,  and  their  posses- 
sion without  a  permit,  a  high  crime  and  misdemeanour. 

'Oh,  they  have,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  not  exactly 
making  the  sort  of  reply  that  was  expected  from  him. 
'It 's  quite  delightful.' 

'Hem!'  said  Miss  Wardle,  rather  dubiously. 

'Will  you  permit  me?'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  his 
blandest  manner,  touching  the  enchanting  Rachael's 
wrist  with  one  hand,  and  gently  elevating  the  bottle 
with  the  other.  'Will  you  permit  me  ?' 

'Oh,  sir!'  Mr.  Tupman  looked  most  impressive; 
and  Rachael  expressed  her  fear  that  more  guns  were 
going  off,  in  which  case,  of  course,  she  would  have 
required  support  again. 

'Do  you  think  my  dear  nieces  pretty?'  whispered 
their  affectionate  aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

'I  should,  if  their  aunt  wasn't  here,'  replied  the 
ready  Pickwickian,  with  a  passionate  glance. 

'Oh,  you  naughty  man — but  really,  if  their  com- 
plexions were  a  little  better,  don't  you  think  they 
would  be  nice-looking  girls — by  candle-light?' 

'Yes;  I  think  they  would,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with 
an  air  of  indifference. 

'Oh,  you  quiz — I  know  what  you  were  going  to 
say.' 

'What?'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  pre- 
cisely made  up  his  mind  to  say  anything  at  all. 

'You   were   going  to   say,   that   Isabel   stoops— I 


72  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

know  you  were — you  men  are  such  observers.  Well, 
so  she  does;  it  can't  be  denied;  and,  certainly,  if  there 
is  one  thing  more  than  another  that  makes  a  girl  look 
ugly,  it  is  stooping.  I  often  tell  her,  that  when  she 
gets  a  little  older,  she  '11  be  quite  frightful.  Well, 
you  are  a  quiz !' 

Mr.  Tupman  had  no  objection  to  earning  the  repu- 
tation at  so  cheap  a  rate :  so  he  looked  very  knowing, 
and  smiled  mysteriously. 

'What  a  sarcastic  smile,5  said  the  admiring  Rachael ; 
'I  declare  I  'm  quite  afraid  of  you.' 

'Afraid  of  me!' 

'Oh,  you  can't  disguise  anything  from  me — I  know 
what  that  smile  means,  very  well.' 

'What?'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  the  slight- 
est notion  himself. 

'You  mean,'  said  the  amiable  aunt,  sinking  her 
voice  still  lower — 'You  mean,  that  you  don't  think 
Isabella's  stooping  is  as  bad  as  Emily's  boldness. 
Well,  she  is  bold!  You  cannot  think  how  wretched 
it  makes  me  sometimes — I  'm  sure  I  cry  about  it  for 
hours  together — my  dear  brother  is  so  good,  and  so 
unsuspicious,  that  he  never  sees  it;  if  he  did,  I  'm 
quite  certain  it  would  break  his  heart.  I  wish  I  could 
think  it  was  only  manner — I  hope  it  may  be — '  (here 
the  affectionate  relative  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  shook 
her  head  despondingly) . 

'I  'm  sure  aunt 's  talking  about  us,'  whispered  Miss 
Emily  Wardle  to  her  sister — 'I  'm  quite  certain  of  it 
— she  looks  so  malicious.' 

'Is  she?'  replied  Isabella — 'Hem!  aunt,  dear!' 

'Yes,  my  dear  love !' 

'I  'm  so  afraid  you  '11  catch  cold,  aunt — have  a  silk 
handkerchief  to  tie  round  your  dear  old  head — you 
really  should  take  care  of  yourself — consider  your 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  73 

However  well  deserved  this  piece  of  retaliation 
might  have  been,  it  was  as  vindictive  a  one  as  could 
well  have  been  resorted  to.  There  is  no  guessing  in 
what  form  of  reply  the  aunt's  indignation  would  have 
vented  itself,  had  not  Mr.  Wardle  unconsciously 
changed  the  subject,  by  calling  emphatically  for  Joe. 

'Damn  that  boy,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'he  's  gone 
to  sleep  again.' 

'Very  extraordinary  boy,  that,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'does  he  always  sleep  in  this  way?' 

'Sleep!'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'he  's  always  asleep. 
Goes  on  errands  fast  asleep,  and  snores  as  he  waits  at 
table.' 

'How  veiy  odd !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Ah!  odd  indeed,'  returned  the  old  gentleman;  'I  'm 

proud  of  that  boy — wouldn't  part  with  him  on  any 

account — he  's  a  natural  curiosity !     Here,  Joe — Joe 

—take  these  things  away,  and  open  another  bottle— 

d'  ye  hear?' 

The  fat  boy  rose,  opened  his  eyes,  swallowed  the 
huge  piece  of  pie  he  had  been  in  the  act  of  mastica- 
ting when  he  last  fell  asleep,  and  slowly  obeyed  his 
master's  orders — gloating  languidly  over  the  remains 
of  the  feast,  as  he  removed  the  plates,  and  deposited 
them  in  the  hamper.  The  fresh  bottle  was  produced, 
and  speedily  emptied:  the  hamper  was  made  fast  in 
its  old  place — the  fat  boy  once  more  mounted  the 
box — the  spectacles  and  pocket-glass  were  again  ad- 
justed— and  the  evolutions  of  the  military  recom- 
menced. There  was  a  great  fizzing  and  banging  of 
guns,  and  starting  of  ladies — and  then  a  mine  was 
sprung,  to  the  gratification  of  everybody — and  when 
the  mine  had  gone  off,  the  military  and  the  company 
followed  its  example,  and  went  off  too. 

'Now  mind,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Mr.  Pickwick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  con- 


74  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

versation  which  had  been  carried  on  at  intervals,  dur- 
ing the  conclusion  of  the  proceedings — 'we  shall  see 
you  all  to-morrow.' 

'Most  certainly,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'You  have  got  the  address.' 

'Manor  Farm,  Dingley  Dell,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
consulting  his  pocket-book. 

'That 's  it,'  said  the  old  gentleman.  'I  don't  let 
you  off,  mind,  under  a  week ;  and  undertake  that  you 
shall  see  everything  worth  seeing.  If  you  've  come 
down  for  a  country  life,  come  to  me,  and  I  '11  give 
you  plenty  of  it.  Joe — damn  that  boy,  he  's  gone  to 
sleep  again — Joe,  help  Tom  put  in  the  horses.' 

The  horses  were  put  in — the  driver  mounted — the 
fat  boy  clambered  up  by  his  side — farewells  were 
exchanged— and  the  carriage  rattled  off.  As  the 
Pickwickians  turned  round  to  take  a  last  glimpse  of 
it,  the  setting  sun  cast  a  rich  glow  on  the  faces  of 
their  entertainers,  and  fell  upon  the  form  of  the  fat 
boy.  His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosom;  and  he 
slumbered  again. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  SHORT  ONE.  SHOWING,  AMONG  OTHER  MATTERS, 
HOW  MR.  PICKWICK  UNDERTOOK  TO  DRIVE,  AND  MR. 
WINKLE  TO  RIDE;  AND  HOW  THEY  BOTH  DID  IT, 

BRIGHT  and  pleasant  was  the  sky,  balmy  the  air,  and 
beautiful  the  appearance  of  every  object  around,  as 
Mr.  Pickwick  leant  over  the  balustrades  of  Rochester 
Bridge,  contemplating  nature,  and  waiting  for  break- 
fast. The  scene  was  indeed  one  which  might  well 
have  charmed  a  far  less  reflective  mind,  than  that  to 
which  it  was  presented. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  75 

On  the  left  of  the  spectator  lay  the  ruined  wall, 
broken  in  many  places,  and  in  some,  overhanging 
the  narrow  beach  below  in  rude  and  heavy  masses. 
Huge  knots  of  sea-weed  hung  upon  the  jagged  and 
pointed  stones,  trembling  in  every  breath  of  wind; 
and  the  green  ivy  clung  mournfully  round  the  dark 
and  ruined  battlements.  Behind  it  rose  the  ancient 
castle,  its  towers  roofless,  and  its  massive  walls 
crumbling  away,  but  telling  us  proudly  of  its  own 
might  and  strength,  as  when,  seven  hundred  years 
ago,  it  rang  with  the  clash  of  arms,  or  resounded  with 
the  noise  of  feasting  and  revelry.  On  either  side, 
the  banks  of  the  Medway,  covered  with  cornfields 
and  pastures,  with  here  and  there  a  windmill,  or  a 
distant  church,  stretched  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see,  presenting  a  rich  and  varied  landscape,  rendered 
more  beautiful  by  the  changing  shadows  which  passed 
swiftly  across  it,  as  the  thin  and  half-formed  clouds 
skimmed  away  in  the  light  of  the  morning  sun.  The 
river,  reflecting  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky,  glistened 
and  sparkled  as  it  flowed  noiselessly  on;  and  the  oars 
of  the  fishermen  dipped  into  the  water  with  a  clear 
and  liquid  sound,  as  the  heavy  but  picturesque  boats 
glided  slowly  down  the  stream. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused  from  the  agreeable  rev- 
erie into  which  he  had  been  led  by  the  objects  before 
him,  by  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  touch  on  his  shoulder.  He 
turned  round:  and  the  dismal  man  was  at  his  side. 

'Contemplating  the  scene?'  inquired  the  dismal  man. 

'I  was,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'And  congratulating  yourself  on  being  up  so  soon?' 
Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

'Ah!  people  need  to  rise  early,  to  see  the  sun  in  all 
his  splendour,  for  his  brightness  seldom  lasts  the  day 
through.  The  morning  of  day  and  the  morning  of 
life  are  but  too  much  alike.* 


76  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'You  speak  truly,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'How  common  the  saying,'  continued  the  dismal 
man,  '  "The  morning  's  too  fine  to  last."  How  well 
might  it  be  applied  to  our  every-day  existence.  God ! 
what  would  I  forfeit  to  have  the  days  of  my  child- 
hood restored,  or  to  be  able  to  forget  them  for  ever!' 

'You  have  seen  much  trouble,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, compassionately. 

'I  have,'  said  the  dismal  man,  hurriedly;  'I  have. 
More  than  those  who  see  me  now  would  believe  possi- 
ble.' He  paused  for  an  instant,  and  then  said, 
abruptly — 

'Did  it  ever  strike  you,  on  such  a  morning  as  this, 
that  drowning  would  be  happiness  and  peace?' 

'God  bless  me,  no!'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  edging 
a  little  from  the  balustrade,  as  the  possibility  of  the 
dismal  man's  tipping  him  over,  by  way  of  experiment, 
occurred  to  him  rather  forcibly. 

fl  have  thought  so,  often,'  said  the  dismal  man, 
without  noticing  the  action.  'The  calm,  cool  water 
seems  to  me  to  murmur  an  invitation  to  repose  and 
rest.  A  bound,  a  splash,  a  brief  struggle;  there  is 
an  eddy  for  an  instant,  it  gradually  subsides  into  a 
gentle  ripple ;  the  waters  have  closed  above  your  head, 
and  the  world  has  closed  upon  your  miseries  and  mis- 
fortunes for  ever.'  The  sunken  eye  of  the  dismal 
man  flashed  brightly  as  he  spoke,  but  the  momentary 
excitement  quickly  subsided; — and  he  turned  calmly 
away,  as  he  said — 

'There — enough  of  that.  I  wish  to  see  you  on  an- 
other subject.  You  invited  me  to  read  that  paper, 
the  night  before  last,  and  listened  attentively  while 
I  did  so.' 

'I  did,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  'and  I  certainly 
thought — ' 

'I  asked  for  no  opinion,'  said  the  dismal  man,  inter- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  77 

rupting  him,  'and  I  want  none.  You  are  travelling 
for  amusement  and  instruction.  Suppose  I  for- 
warded you  a  curious  manuscript — observe,  not  curi- 
ous because  wild  or  improbable,  but  curious  as  a  leaf 
from  the  romance  of  real  life.  Would  you  communi- 
cate it  to  the  club,  of  which  you  have  spoken  so  fre- 
quently?' 

'Certainly,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'if  you  wished 
it;  and  it  would  be  entered  on  their  transactions.' 

'You  shall  have  it,'  replied  the  dismal  man.  'Your 
address';  and,  Mr.  Pickwick  having  communicated 
their  probable  route,  the  dismal  man  carefully  noted 
it  down  in  a  greasy  pocket-book,  and,  resisting  Mr. 
Pickwick's  pressing  invitation  to  breakfast,  left  that 
gentleman  at  his  inn,  and  walked  slowly  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  that  his  three  companions  had 
risen,  and  were  waiting  his  arrival  to  commence  break- 
fast, which  was  ready  laid  in  tempting  display.  They 
sat  down  to  the  meal;  and  broiled  ham,  eggs,  tea, 
coffee,  and  sundries,  began  to  disappear  with  a  rapid- 
ity what  at  once  bore  testimony  to  the  excellence  of 
the  fare,  and  the  appetites  of  its  consumers. 

'Now,  about  Manor  Farm,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'How  shall  we  go?' 

'We  had  better  consult  the  waiter,  perhaps,'  said 
Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  waiter  was  summoned  accord- 
ingly. 

'Dingley  Dell,  gentlemen — fifteen  miles,  gentle- 
men— cross  road — post-chaise,  sir?' 

'Post-chaise  won't  hold  more  than  two/  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'True,  sir — beg  your  pardon,  sir. — Very  nice  four- 
wheeled  chaise,  sir — seat  for  two  behind — one  in  front 
for  the  gentleman  that  drives — oh!  beg  your  pardon, 
sir — that  '11  only  hold  three.' 

'What 's  to  be  done?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 


78  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Perhaps  one  of  the  gentlemen  would  like  to  ride, 
sir?'  suggested  the  waiter,  looking  towards  Mr. 
Winkle;  'very  good  saddle-horses,  sir — any  of  Mr. 
Wardle's  men  coming  to  Rochester  bring  'em  back, 
sir.' 

'The  very  thing,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Winkle,  will 
you  go  on  horseback  ?' 

Mr.  Winkle  did  entertain  considerable  misgivings 
in  the  very  lowest  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  relative 
to  his  equestrian  skill ;  but,  as  he  would  not  have  them 
even  suspected  on  any  account,  he  at  once  replied 
with  great  hardihood,  'Certainly.  I  should  enjoy  it, 
of  all  things.' 

Mr.  Winkle  had  rushed  upon  his  fate;  there  was 
no  resource.  'Let  them  be  at  the  door  by  eleven,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Very  well,  sir,'  replied  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  retired;  the  breakfast  concluded;  and 
the  travellers  ascended  to  their  respective  bed-rooms, 
to  prepare  a  change  of  clothing,  to  take  with  them  on 
their  approaching  expedition. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  made  his  preliminary  arrange- 
ments, and  was  looking  over  the  coffee-room  blinds  at 
the  passengers  in  the  street,  when  the  waiter  entered, 
and  announced  that  the  chaise  was  ready — an  an- 
nouncement which  the  vehicle  itself  confirmed,  by 
forthwith  appearing  before  the  coffee-room  blinds 
aforesaid. 

It  was  a  curious  little  green  box  on  four  wheels, 
with  a  low  place  like  a  wine-bin  for  two  behind,  and 
an  elevated  perch  for  one  in  front,  drawn  by  an  im- 
mense brown  horse,  displaying  great  symmetry  of 
bone.  An  hostler  stood  near,  holding  by  the  bridle 
another  immense  horse — apparently  a  near  relative  of 
the  animal  in  the  chaise — ready  saddled  for  Mr. 
Winkle. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  79 

'Bless  my  soul!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they  stood 
upon  the  pavement  while  the  coats  were  being*  put  in. 
'Bless  my  soul!  who  's  to  drive?  I  never  thought  of 
that/ 

'Oh!  you,  of  course,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Of  course,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'I !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Not  the  slightest  fear,  sir,'  interposed  the  hostler. 
*  Warrant  him  quiet,  sir;  a  hinfant  in  arms  might 
drive  him.' 

'He  don't  shy,  does  he?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Shy,  sir? — He  wouldn't  shy  if  he  was  to  meet 
a  vaggin-load  of  monkeys  with  their  tails  burnt 
off.' 

The  last  recommendation  was  indisputable.  Mr. 
Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  got  into  the  bin;  Mr. 
Pickwick  ascended  to  his  perch,  and  deposited  his  feet 
on  a  floor-clothed  shelf,  erected  beneath  it  for  that 
purpose. 

'Now,  shiny  Villiam,'  said  the  hostler  to  the  deputy 
hostler,  'give  the  gen'l'm'n  the  ribbins.'  'Shiny  Vil- 
liam'— so  called,  probably,  from  his  sleek  hair  and 
oily  countenance— placed  the  reins  in  Mr.  Pickwick's 
left  hand;  and  the  upper  hostler  thrust  a  whip  into 
his  right. 

'Wo — o!'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  tall  quadru- 
ped evinced  a  decided  inclination  to  back  into  the 
coffee-room  window. 

'Wo — o!'  echoed  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
from  the  bin. 

'Only  his  playfulness,  gen'l'm'n,'  said  the  head 
hostler  encouragingly;  'jist  kitch  hold  on  him,  Vil- 
liam.' The  deputy  restrained  the  animal's  impetu- 
osity, and  the  principal  ran  to  assist  Mr.  Winkle  in 
mounting. 

'T'other  side,  sir,  if  you  please.' 


80  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Slowed  if  the  genTm'n  worn't  a  gettin'  up  on 
the  wrong-  side,'  whispered  a  grinning  post-boy  to  the 
inexpressibly  gratified  waiter. 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  instructed,  climbed  into  his  sad- 
dle, with  about  as  much  difficulty  as  he  would  have 
experienced  in  getting  up  the  side  of  a  first-rate 
man-of-war. 

'All  right?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  inward 
presentiment  that  it  was  all  wrong. 

'All  right,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  faintly. 

'Let  'em  go,'  cried  the  hostler, — 'Hold  him  in,  sir,' 
and  away  went  the  chaise,  and  the  saddle-horse,  with 
Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  box  of  the  one,  and  Mr.  Winkle 
on  the  back  of  the  other,  to  the  delight  and  gratifica- 
tion of  the  whole  inn  yard. 

'What  makes  him  go  sideways?'  said  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  in  the  bin,  to  Mr.  Winkle  in  the  saddle. 

'I  can't  imagine,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  His  horse 
was  drifting  up  the  street  in  the  most  mysterious  man- 
ner— side  first,  with  his  head  towards  one  side  of  the 
way,  and  his  tail  towards  the  other. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either  this 
or  any  other  particular,  the  whole  of  his  faculties  be- 
ing concentrated  in  the  management  of  the  animal 
attached  to  the  chaise,  who  displayed  various  peculiari- 
ties, highly  interesting  to  a  bystander,  but  by  no  means 
equally  amusing  to  any  one  seated  behind  him.  Be- 
sides constantly  jerking  his  head  up,  in  a  very 
unpleasant  and  uncomfortable  manner,  and  tugging 
at  the  reins  to  an  extent  which  rendered  it  a  matter 
of  great  difficulty  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  hold  them,  he 
had  a  singular  propensity  for  darting  suddenly  every 
now  and  then  to  the  side  of  the  road,  then  stopping 
short,  and  then  rushing  forward  for  some  minutes,  at 
a  speed  which  it  was  wholly  impossible  to  control. 

'What  can  he  mean  by  this?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 


WINKLE    SOOTHES    THE    REFRACTORY    MARE. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  81 

when  the  horse  had  executed  this  manoeuvre  for  the 
twentieth  time. 

'I  don't  know,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman;  'it  looks  very 
like  shying,  don't  it?'  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to 
reply,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  shout  from  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Woo!'  said  that  gentleman;  'I  have  dropped  mv 
i  •    ' 
whip. 

'Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  the  equestrian 
came  trotting  up  on  the  tall  horse,  with  his  hat  over 
his  ears,  and  shaking  all  over,  as  if  he  would  shake  to 
pieces,  with  the  violence  of  the  exercise,  'pick  up  the 
whip,  there  's  a  good  fellow.'  Mr.  Winkle  pulled  at 
the  bridle  of  the  tall  horse  till  he  was  black  in  the 
face ;  and  having  at  length  succeeded  in  stopping  him, 
dismounted,  handed  the  whip  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
grasping  the  reins,  prepared  to  remount. 

Now  whether  the  tall  horse,  in  the  natural  playful- 
ness of  his  disposition,  was  desirous  of  having  a  little 
innocent  recreation  with  Mr.  Winkle,  or  whether  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  could  perform  the  journey 
as  much  to  his  own  satisfaction  without  a  rider  as  with 
one,  are  points  upon  which,  of  course,  we  can  arrive 
at  no  definite  and  distinct  conclusion.  By  whatever 
motives  the  animal  was  actuated,  certain  it  is  that  Mr. 
Winkle  had  no  sooner  touched  the  reins,  than  he 
slipped  them  over  his  head,  and  darted  backwards  to 
their  full  length. 

'Poor  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  soothingly, — 'poor 
fellow— good  old  horse.'  The  'poor  fellow'  was 
proof  against  flattery:  the  more  Mr.  Winkle  tried  to 
get  nearer  him,  the  more  he  sidled  away;  and,  notwith- 
standing all  kinds  of  coaxing  and  wheedling,  there 
were  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  horse  going  round  and 
round  each  other  for  ten  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  each  was  at  precisely  the  same  distance  from  the 


82  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

other  as  when  they  first  commenced — an  unsatisfac- 
tory sort  of  thing  under  any  circumstances,  but  par- 
ticularly so  in  a  lonely  road,  where  no  assistance  can 
be  procured. 

'What  am  I  to  do?'  shouted  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the 
dodging  had  been  prolonged  for  a  considerable  time. 
'What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  can't  get  on  him.' 

'You  had  better  lead  him  till  we  come  to  a  turnpike,' 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  chaise. 

'But  he  won't  come!'  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  'Do 
come  and  hold  him.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  very  personation  of  kindness 
and  humanity :  he  threw  the  reins  on  the  horse's  back, 
and  having  descended  from  his  seat,  carefully  drew 
the  chaise  into  the  hedge,  lest  anything  should  come 
along  the  road,  and  stepped  back  to  the  assistance  of 
his  distressed  companion,  leaving  Mr.  Tupman  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the  vehicle. 

The  horse  no  sooner  beheld  Mr.  Pickwick  advancing 
towards  him  with  the  chaise  whip  in  his  hand,  than  he 
exchanged  the  rotatory  motion  in  which  he  had 
previously  indulged,  for  a  retrograde  movement  of  so 
very  determined  a  character,  that  it  at  once  drew  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  was  still  at  the  end  of  the  bridle,  at  a 
rather  quicker  rate  than  fast  walking,  in  the  direction 
from  which  they  had  just  come.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran 
to  his  assistance,  but  the  faster  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  for- 
ward, the  faster  the  horse  ran  backward.  There  was 
a  great  scraping  of  feet,  and  kicking  up  of  dust;  and 
at  last  Mr.  Winkle,  his  arms  being  nearly  pulled  out 
of  their  sockets,  fairly  let  go  his  hold.  The  horse 
paused,  stared,  shook  his  .head,  turned  round,  and 
quietly  trotted  home  to  Rochester,  leaving  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  gazing  on  each  other  with  counte- 
nances of  blank  dismay.  A  rattling  noise  at  a  little 
distance  attracted  their  attention.  They  looked  up. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  88 

'Bless  my  soul!'  exclaimed  the  agonised  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'there  's  the  other  horse  running  away !' 

It  was  but  too  true.  The  animal  was  startled  by 
the  noise,  and  the  reins  were  on  his  back.  The  result 
may  be  guessed.  He  tore  off  with  the  four-wheeled 
chaise  behind  him,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  in  the  four-wheeled  chaise.  The  heat  was  a 
short  one.  Mr.  Tupman  threw  himself  into  the  hedge, 
Mr.  Snodgrass  followed  his  example,  the  horse  dashed 
the  four-wheeled  chaise  against  a  wooden  bridge,  sep- 
arated the  wheels  from  the  body,  and  the  bin  from  the 
perch;  and  finally  stood  stock  still  to  gaze  upon  the 
ruin  he  had  made. 

The  first  care  of  the  two  unspilt  friends  was  to  ex- 
tricate their  unfortunate  companions  from  their  bed 
of  quickset — a  process  which  gave  them  the  unspeak- 
able satisfaction  of  discovering  that  they  had  sustained 
no  injury,  beyond  sundry  rents  in  their  garments,  and 
various  lacerations  from  the  brambles.  The  next 
thing  to  be  done  was,  to  unharness  the  horse.  This 
complicated  process  having  been  effected,  the  party 
walked  slowly  forward,  leading  the  horse  among  them, 
and  abandoning  the  chaise  to  its  fate. 

An  hour's  walking  brought  the  travellers  to  a  little 
road-side  public-house,  with  two  elm  trees,  a  horse 
trough,  and  a  sign-post,  in  front ;  one  or  two  deformed 
hay-ricks  behind,  a  kitchen  garden  at  the  side,  and 
rotten  sheds  and  mouldering  out-houses  jumbled  in 
strange  confusion  all  about  it.  A  red-headed  man 
was  working  in  the  garden ;  and  to  him  Mr.  Pickwick 
called  lustily— 'Hallo  there!' 

The  red-headed  man  raised  his  body,  shaded  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  and  stared,  long  and  coolly,  at  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  companions. 

'Hallo  there!'  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Hallo !'  was  the  red-headed  man's  reply. 


84  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'How  far  is  it  to  Dingley  Dell?' 

'Better  er  seven  mile.' 

'Is  it  a  good  road  ?' 

'No,  t'ant.'  Having  uttered  this  brief  reply,  and 
apparently  satisfied  himself  with  another  scrutiny,  the 
red-headed  man  resumed  his  work. 

'We  want  to  put  this  horse  up  here,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick ;  'I  suppose  we  can,  can't  we  ?' 

'Want  to  put  that  ere  horse  up,  do  'ee?'  repeated 
the  red-headed  man,  leaning  on  his  spade. 

'Of  course,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  by  this 
time  advanced,  horse  in  hand,  to  the  garden  rails. 

'Missus' — roared  the  man  with  the  red  head,  emer- 
ging from  the  garden,  and  looking  very  hard  at  the 
horse — 'Missus !' 

A  tall  bony  woman — straight  all  the  way  down- 
in  a  coarse  blue  pelisse,  with  the  waist  an  inch  or  two 
below  her  arm-pits,  responded  to  the  call. 

'Can  we  put  this  horse  up  here,  my  good  woman?' 
said  Mr.  Tupman,  advancing,  and  speaking  in  his 
most  seductive  tones.  The  woman  looked  very  hard 
at  the  whole  party ;  and  the  red-headed  man  whispered 
something  in  her  ear. 

'No,'  replied  the  woman,  after  a  little  consideration, 
*I  'm  afeerd  on  it.' 

'Afraid !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  'what 's  the 
woman  afraid  of?' 

'It  got  us  in  trouble  last  time,'  said  the  woman, 
turning  into  the  house;  'I  woant  have  nothin'  to  say 
to  'un.' 

'Most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  met  with  in  my 
life,'  said  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I — I — really  believe,'  whispered  Mr.  Winkle,  as 
his  friends  gathered  round  him,  'that  they  think  we 
have  come  by  this  horse  in  some  dishonest  manner.' 

'What!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  storm  of  in- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  85 

dignation.  Mr.  Winkle  modestly  repeated  his  sug- 
gestion. 

'Hallo,  you  fellow!'  said  the  angry  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'do  you  think  we  stole  this  horse  ?' 

'I  'm  sure  ye  did,'  replied  the  red-headed  man,  with 
a  grin  which  agitated  his  countenance  from  one 
auricular  organ  to  the  other.  Saying  which,  he 
turned  into  the  house,  and  banged  the  door  after  him. 

'It's  like  a  dream,'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  'a 
hideous  dream.  The  idea  of  a  man's  walking  about, 
all  day,  with  a  dreadful  horse  that  he  can't  get  rid 
of!'  The  depressed  Pickwickians  turned  moodily 
away,  with  the  tall  quadruped,  for  which  they  all  felt 
the  most  unmitigated  disgust,  following  slowly  at 
their  heels. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  four  friends 
and  their  four-footed  companion  turned  into  the  lane 
leading  to  Manor  Farm :  and  even  when  they  were  so 
near  their  place  of  destination,  the  pleasure  they  would 
otherwise  have  experienced  was  materially  damped  as 
they  reflected  on  the  singularity  of  their  appearance, 
and  the  absurdity  of  their  situation.  Torn  clothes, 
lacerated  faces,  dusty  shoes,  exhausted  looks,  and, 
above  all,  the  horse.  Oh,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  cursed 
that  horse:  he  had  eyed  the  noble  animal  from  time 
to  time  with  looks  expressive  of  hatred  and  revenge; 
more  than  once  he  had  calculated  the  probable  amount 
of  the  expense  he  would  incur  by  cutting  his  throat; 
and  now  the  temptation  to  destroy  him,  or  to  cast 
him  loose  upon  the  world,  rushed  upon  his  mind  with 
tenfold  force.  He  was  roused  from  a  meditation  on 
these  dire  imaginings,  by  the  sudden  appearance  of 
two  figures  at  a  turn  of  the  lane.  It  was  Mr.  Wardle, 
and  his  faithful  attendant,  the  fat  boy. 

'Why,  where  have  you  been?'  said  the  hospitable 
old  gentleman;  *I  've  been  waiting  for  you  all  day. 


86  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Well,  you  do  look  tired.  What!  Scratches!  Not 
hurt,  I  hope — eh?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that- 
very.  So  you  Ve  been  spilt,  eh?  Never  mind. 
Common  accident  in  these  parts.  Joe — he  's  asleep 
again ! — Joe,  take  that  horse  from  the  gentleman,  and 
lead  it  into  the  stable.' 

The  fat  boy  sauntered  heavily  behind  them  with  the 
animal;  and  the  old  gentleman,  condoling  with  his 
guests  in  homely  phrase  on  so  much  of  the  day's  ad- 
ventures as  they  thought  proper  to  communicate,  led 
the  way  to  the  kitchen. 

'We  '11  have  you  put  to  rights  here,'  said  the  old 
gentleman,  'and  then  I  '11  introduce  you  to  the  people 
in  the  parlour.  Emma,  bring  out  the  cherry  brandy ; 
now,  Jane,  a  needle  and  thread  here ;  towels  and  water, 
Mary.  Come,  girls,  bustle  about.' 

Three  or  four  buxom  girls  speedily  dispersed  in 
search  of  the  different  articles  in  requisition,  while  a 
couple  of  large-headed,  circular-visaged  males  rose 
from  their  seats  in  the  chimney-corner  (for  although 
it  was  a  May  evening,  their  attachment  to  the  wood 
fire  appeared  as  cordial  as  if  it  were  Christmas),  and 
dived  into  some  obscure  recesses,  from  which  they 
speedily  produced  a  bottle  of  blacking,  and  some  half- 
dozen  brushes. 

'Bustle!'  said  the  old  gentleman  again,  but  the  ad- 
monition was  quite  unnecessary,  for  one  of  the  girls 
poured  out  the  cherry  brandy,  and  another  brought 
in  the  towels,  and  one  of  the  men  suddenly  seizing 
Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  leg,  at  imminent  hazard  of 
throwing  him  off  his  balance,  brushed  away  at  his 
boot,  till  his  corns  were  red-hot ;  while  the  other  sham- 
poo'd  Mr.  Winkle  with  a  heavy  clothes-brush,  indulg- 
ing, during  the  operation,  in  that  hissing  sound  which 
hostlers  are  wont  to  produce  when  engaged  in  rub- 
bing down  a  horse. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  87 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  having  concluded  his  ablutions, 
took  a  survey  of  the  room,  while  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  sipping  his  cherry  brandy  with  heart- 
felt satisfaction.  He  describes  it  as  a  large  apart- 
ment, with  a  red  brick  floor  and  a  capacious  chimney ; 
the  ceiling  garnished  with  hams,  sides  of  bacon,  and 
ropes  of  onions.  The  walls  were  decorated  with 
several  hunting-whips,  two  or  three  bridles,  a  saddle 
and  an  old  rusty  blunderbuss,  with  an  inscription  be- 
low it,  intimating  that  it  was  'Loaded' — as  it  had 
been,  on  the  same  authority,  for  half  a  century  at 
least.  An  old  eight-day  clock,  of  solemn  and  sedate 
demeanour,  ticked  gravely  in  one  corner ;  and  a  silver 
watch,  of  equal  antiquity,  dangled  from  one  of  the 
many  hooks  which  ornamented  the  dresser. 

'Ready?'  said  the  old  gentleman  inquiringly,  when 
his  guests  had  been  washed,  mended,  brushed,  and 
brandied. 

'Quite,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Come  along,  then,'  and  the  party  having  traversed 
several  dark  passages,  and  being  joined  by  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  who  had  lingered  behind  to  snatch  a  kiss  from 
Emma,  for  which  he  had  been  duly  rewarded  with 
sundry  pushings  and  scratchings,  arrived  at  the  par- 
lour door. 

'Welcome,'  said  their  hospitable  host,  throwing  it 
open  and  stepping  forward  to  announce  them,  'Wel- 
come, gentlemen,  to  Manor  Farm.' 


88  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN    OLD-FASHIONED    CARD-PARTY.      THE    CLERGYMAN'S 
VERSES.      THE   STORY   OF   THE    CONVICT'S   RETURN 

SEVERAL  guests  who  were  assembled  in  the  old  par- 
lour rose  to  greet  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  upon 
their  entrance;  and  during  the  performance  of  the 
ceremony  of  introduction,  with  all  due  formalities, 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  observe  the  appearance, 
and  speculate  upon  the  characters  and  pursuits,  of 
the  persons  by  whom  he  was  surrounded — a  habit  in 
which  he  in  common  with  many  other  great  men  de- 
lighted to  indulge. 

A  very  old  lady,  in  a  lofty  cap  and  faded  silk  gown 
— no  less  a  personage  than  Mr.  Wardle's  mother- 
occupied  the  post  of  honour  on  the  right-hand  corner 
of  the  chimney-piece;  and  various  certificates  of  her 
having  been  brought  up  in  the  way  she  should  go 
when  young,  and  of  her  not  having  departed  from 
it  when  old,  ornamented  the  walls,  in  the  form  of 
samplers  of  ancient  date,  worsted  landscapes  of  equal 
antiquity,  and  crimson  silk  tea-kettle  holders  of  a  more 
modern  period.  The  aunt,  the  two  young  ladies, 
and  Mr.  Wardle,  each  vying  with  the  other  in  pay- 
ing zealous  and  unremitting  attentions  to  the  old  lady, 
crowded  round  her  easy-chair,  one  holding  her  ear- 
trumpet,  another  an  orange,  and  a  third  a  smelling- 
bottle,  while  a  fourth  was  busily  engaged  in  patting 
and  punching  the  pillows  which  were  arranged  for 
her  support.  On  the  opposite  side  sat  a  bald-headed 
old  gentleman,  with  a  good-humoured  benevolent 
face — the  clergyman  of  Dingley  Dell;  and  next  him 
sat  his  wife,  a  stout  blooming  old  lady,  who  looked 
as  if  she  were  well  skilled,  not  only  in  the  art  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  89 

mystery  of  manufacturing  home-made  cordials 
greatly  to  other  people's  satisfaction,  but  of  tasting 
them  occasionally  very  much  to  her  own.  A  little 
hard-headed,  Ripstone-pippin-faced  man,  was  con- 
versing with  a  fat  old  gentleman  in  one  corner;  and 
two  or  three  more  old  gentlemen,  and  two  or  three 
more  old  ladies,  sat  bolt  upright  and  motionless  on 
their  chairs,  staring  very  hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
his  fellow-voyagers. 

'Mr.  Pickwick,  mother,'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  at  the 
top  of  his  voice. 

'All!'  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  her  head;  'I  can't 
hear  you.' 

'Mr.  Pickwick,  grandma !'  screamed  both  the  young 
ladies  together. 

'All !'  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  'Well ;  it  don't  much 
matter.  He  don't  care  for  an  old  'ooman  like  me, 
I  dare  say.' 

'I  assure  you,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasp- 
ing the  old  lady's  hand,  and  speaking  so  loud  that 
the  exertion  imparted  a  crimson  hue  to  his  benevolent 
countenance,  'I  assure  you,  ma'am,  that  nothing  de- 
lights me  more  than  to  see  a  lady  of  your  time  of  life 
heading  so  fine  a  family,  and  looking  so  young  and 
well.' 

'Ah !'  said  the  old  lady,  after  a  short  pause ;  'it 's 
all  very  fine,  I  dare  say;  but  I  can't  hear  him.' 

'Grandma  's  rather  put  out  now,'  said  Miss  Isa- 
bella Wardle,  in  a  low  tone;  'but  she  '11  talk  to  you 
presently.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  his  readiness  to  humour  the 
infirmities  of  age,  and  entered  into  a  general  conver- 
sation with  the  other  members  of  the  circle. 

'Delightful  situation  this,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Delightful!'  echoed  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Tupman, 
and  Winkle. 


90  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Well,  I  think  it  is,'  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

'There  an't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,  sir,' 
said  the  hard-headed  man  with  the  pippin-face;  'there 
an't  indeed,  sir — I  'm  sure  there  an't,  sir.'  The  hard- 
headed  man  looked  triumphantly  round,  as  if  he  had 
been  very  much  contradicted  by  somebody,  but  had 
got  the  better  of  him  at  last. 

'There  an't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,'  said 
the  hard-headed  man  again,  after  a  pause. 

'  'Cept  Mullins's  Meadows,'  observed  the  fat  man 
solemnly. 

'Mullins's  Meadows  1'  ejaculated  the  other,  with 
profound  contempt. 

'Ah,  Mullins's  Meadows,'  repeated  the  fat  man. 

'Reg'lar  good  land  that,'  interposed  another  fat 
man. 

'And  so  it  is,  sure-ly,'  said  a  third  fat  man. 

'Everybody  knows  that,'  said  the  corpulent  host. 

The  hard-headed  man  looked  dubiously  round,  but 
finding  himself  in  a  minority,  assumed  a  compas- 
sionate air,  and  said  no  more. 

'What  are  they  talking  about?'  inquired  the  old 
lady  of  one  of  her  granddaughters,  in  a  very  audible 
voice;  for,  like  many  deaf  people,  she  never  seemed 
to  calculate  on  the  possibility  of  other  persons  hear- 
ing what  she  said  herself. 

'About  the  land,  grandma.' 

'What  about  the  land? — Nothing  the  matter,  is 
there?' 

'No,  no.  Mr.  Miller  was  saying  our  land  was  bet- 
ter than  Mullins's  Meadows.' 

'How  should  he  know  anything  about  it?'  inquired 
the  old  lady  indignantly.  'Miller  's  a  conceited  cox- 
comb, and  you  may  tell  him  I  said  so.'  Saying  which, 
the  old  lady,  quite  unconscious  that  she  had  spoken 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  91 

above  a  whisper,  drew  herself  up,  and  looked  carving- 
knives  at  the  hard-headed  delinquent. 

'Come,  come,'  said  the  bustling  host,  with  a  natu- 
ral anxiety  to  change  the  conversation, — 'What  say 
you  to  a  rubber,  Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'I  should  like  it  of  all  things,'  replied  that  gen- 
tleman; 'but  pray  don't  make  up  one  on  my  account.' 

'Oh,  I  assure  you,  mother  's  very  fond  of  a  rubber,' 
said  Mr.  Wardle;  'an't  you,  mother?' 

The  old  lady  who  was  much  less  deaf  on  this  sub- 
ject than  on  any  other,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

'Joe,  Joe!'  said  the  old  gentleman;  'Joe — damn 
that — oh,  here  he  is;  put  out  the  card-tables.' 

The  lethargic  youth  contrived  without  any  addi- 
tional rousing  to  set  out  two  card-tables;  the  one  for 
Pope  Joan,  and  the  other  for  whist.  The  whist- 
players  were  Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady;  Mr. 
Miller  and  the  fat  gentleman.  The  round  game  com- 
prised the  rest  of  the  company. 

The  rubber  was  conducted  with  all  that  gravity  of 
deportment  and  sedateness  of  demeanour  which  befit 
the  pursuit  entitled  'whist' — a  solemn  observance,  to 
which,  as  it  appears  to  us,  the  title  of  'game'  has  been 
very  irreverently  and  ignominiously  applied.  The 
round-game  table,  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  boister- 
ously merry  as  materially  to  interrupt  the  contem- 
plations of  Mr.  Miller,  who,  not  being  quite  so  much 
absorbed  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  contrived  to  com- 
mit various  high  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  which 
excited  the  wrath  of  the  fat  gentleman  to  a  very 
great  extent,  and  called  forth  the  good-humour  of 
the  old  lady  in  a  proportionate  degree. 

'There  1'  said  the  criminal  Miller  triumphantly,  as 
he  took  up  the  odd  trick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  hand; 
'that  could  not  have  been  played  better,  I  flatter  my- 
self;— impossible  to  have  made  another  trick!' 


92  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Miller  ought  to  have  trumped  the  diamond, 
oughtn't  he,  sir?'  said  the  old  lady. 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

'Ought  I,  though?'  said  the  unfortunate,  with  a 
doubtful  appeal  to  his  partner. 

'You  ought,  sir,'  said  the  fat  gentleman,  in  an 
awful  voice. 

'Very  sorry/  said  the  crest-fallen  Miller. 

'Much  use  that,'  growled  the  fat  gentleman. 

'Two  by  honours  makes  us  eight,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

Another  hand.  'Can  you  one?'  inquired  the  old 
lady. 

'I  can,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Double,  single,  and 
the  rub.' 

'Never  was  such  luck,'  said  Mr.  Miller. 

'Never  was  such  cards,'  said  the  fat  gentleman. 

A  solemn  silence:  Mr.  Pickwick  humorous,  the 
old  lady  serious,  the  fat  gentleman  captious,  and  Mr. 
Miller  timorous. 

'Another  double,'  said  the  old  lady:  triumphantly 
making  a  memorandum  of  the  circumstance,  by  plac- 
ing one  sixpence  and  a  battered  halfpenny  under  the 
candlestick. 

'A  double,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Quite  aware  of  the  fact,  sir,'  replied  the  fat  gen- 
tleman, sharply. 

Another  game,  with  a  similar  result,  was  followed 
by  a  revoke  from  the  unlucky  Miller;  on  which  the 
fat  gentleman  burst  into  a  state  of  high  personal  ex- 
citement which  lasted  until  the  conclusion  of  the  game, 
when  he  retired  into  a  corner,  and  remained  perfectly 
mute  for  one  hour  and  twenty-seven  minutes;  at  the 
end  of  which  time  he  emerged  from  his  retirement, 
and  offered  Mr.  Pickwick  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  a  Christian 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  93 

forgiveness  of  injuries  sustained.  The  old  lady's 
hearing  decidedly  improved,  and  the  unlucky  Miller 
felt  as  much  out  of  his  element  as  a  dolphin  in  a  sen- 
try-box. 

Meanwhile  the  round  game  proceeded  right  merrily. 
Isabella  Wardle  and  Mr.  Trundle  'went  partners,' 
and  Emily  Wardle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  did  the  same ; 
and  even  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spinster  aunt  estab- 
lished a  joint-stock  company  of  fish  and  flattery. 
Old  Mr.  Wardle  was  in  the  very  height  of  his  jollity; 
and  he  was  so  funny  in  his  management  of  the  board, 
and  the  old  ladies  were  so  sharp  after  their  winnings, 
that  the  whole  table  was  in  a  perpetual  roar  of  merri- 
ment and  laughter.  There  was  one  old  lady  who 
always  had  about  half  a  dozen  cards  to  pay  for,  at 
which  everybody  laughed,  regularly  every  round; 
and  when  the  old  lady  looked  cross  at  having  to  pay, 
they  laughed  louder  than  ever ;  on  which  the  old  lady's 
face  gradually  brightened  up,  till  at  last  she  laughed 
louder  than  any  of  them.  Then,  when  the  spinster 
aunt  got  'matrimony,'  the  young  ladies  laughed 
afresh,  and  the  spinster  aunt  seemed  disposed  to  be 
pettish ;  till,  feeling  Mr.  Tupman  squeezing  her  hand 
under  the  table,  she  brightened  up  too,  and  looked 
rather  knowing,  as  if  matrimony  in  reality  were  not 
quite  so  far  off  as  some  people  thought  for;  where- 
upon everybody  laughed  again,  and  especially  old 
Mr.  Wardle,  who  enjoyed  a  joke  as  much  as  the 
youngest.  As  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  he  did  nothing  but 
whisper  poetical  sentiments  into  his  partner's  ear, 
which  made  one  old  gentleman  facetiously  sly,  about 
partnerships  at  cards  and  partnerships  for  life,  and 
caused  the  aforesaid  old  gentleman  to  make  some 
remarks  thereupon,  accompanied  with  divers  winks 
and  chuckles,  which  made  the  company  very  merry 
and  the  old  gentleman's  wife  especially  so.  And  Mr. 


94  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Winkle  came  out  with  jokes  which  are  very  well 
known  in  town,  but  are  not  at  all  known  in  the 
country:  and  as  everybody  laughed  at  them  very 
heartily,  and  said  they  were  very  capital,  Mr.  Winkle 
was  in  a  state  of  great  honour  and  glory.  And  the 
benevolent  clergyman  looked  pleasantly  on;  for  the 
happy  faces  which  surrounded  the  table  made  the 
good  old  man  feel  happy  too;  and  though  the  merri- 
ment was  rather  boisterous,  still  it  came  from  the 
heart  and  not  from  the  lips :  and  this  is  the  right  sort 
of  merriment,  after  all. 

The  evening  glided  swiftly  away,  in  these  cheerful 
recreations;  and  when  the  substantial  though  homely 
supper  had  been  despatched,  and  the  little  party 
formed  a  social  circle  round  the  fire,  Mr.  Pickwick 
thought  he  had  never  felt  so  happy  in  his  life,  and  at 
no  time  so  much  disposed  to  enjoy,  and  make  the  most 
of,  the  passing  moment. 

'Now  this,'  said  the  hospitable  host,  who  was  sitting 
in  great  state  next  the  old  lady's  arm-chair,  with  her 
hand  fast  clasped  in  his — 'This  is  just  what  I  like— 
the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  have  been  passed  at 
this  old  fire-side:  and  I  am  so  attached  to  it,  that  I 
keep  up  a  blazing  fire  here  every  evening,  until  it 
actually  grows  too  hot  to  bear  it.  Why,  my  poor  old 
mother,  here,  used  to  sit  before  this  fireplace  upon 

that  little  stool  when  she  was  a  girl:  didn't  you, 

,,      ,,,  * 

mother  ( 

The  tear  which  starts  unbidden  to  the  eye  when  the 
recollection  of  old  times  and  the  happiness  of  many 
years  ago  is  suddenly  recalled,  stole  down  the  old 
lady's  face  as  she  shook  her  head  with  a  melancholy 
smile. 

'You  must  excuse  my  talking  about  this  old  place, 
Mr.  Pickwick,'  resumed  the  host,  after  a  short  pause, 
'for  I  love  it  dearly,  and  know  no  other — the  old 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  95 

houses  and  fields  seem  like  living  friends  to  me:  and 
so  does  our  little  church  with  the  ivy, — about  which, 
by  the  bye,  our  excellent  friend  there  made  a  song 
when  he  first  came  amongst  us.  Mr.  Snodgrass,  have 
you  anything  in  your  glass?' 

'Plenty,  thank  you,'  replied  that  gentleman,  whose 
poetic  curiosity  had  been  greatly  excited  by  the  last 
observations  of  his  entertainer.  'I  beg  your  pardon, 
but  you  were  talking  about  the  song  of  the  Ivy.' 

'You  must  ask  our  friend  opposite  about  that,' 
said  the  host  knowingly:  indicating  the  clergyman 
by  a  nod  of  his  head. 

'May  I  say  that  I  should  like  to  hear  you  repeat  it, 
sir?'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Why  really,'  replied  the  clergyman,  'it 's  a  very 
slight  affair;  and  the  only  excuse  I  have  for  having 
ever  perpetrated  it  is,  that  I  was  a  young  man  at  the 
time.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  you  shall  hear  it  if  you 
wish/ 

A  murmur  of  curiosity  was  of  course  the  reply; 
and  the  old  gentleman  proceeded  to  recite,  with  the 
aid  of  sundry  promptings  from  his  wife,  the  lines  in 
question.  'I  call  them,'  said  he, 


THE  IVY  GREEN 

OH,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  Ivy  green, 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old ! 

Of  right  choice  food  are  his  meals  I  ween, 

In  his  cell  so  lone  and  cold. 

The  wall  must  be  crumbled,  the  stone  decayed, 

To  pleasure  his  dainty  whim: 

And  the  mouldering  dust  that  years  have  made. 

Is  a  merry  meal  for  him. 

Creeping  where  no  life  is  seen, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Fast  he  stealeth  on,  though  he  wears  no  wings, 

And  a  staunch  old  heart  has  he. 

How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings 

To  his  friend  the  huge  Oak  Tree ! 

And  slily  he  traileth  along  the  ground, 

And  his  leaves  he  gently  waves, 

As  he  joyously  hugs  and  crawleth  round 

The  rich  mould  of  dead  men's  graves. 
Creeping  where  grim  death  has  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Whole  ages  have  fled  and  their  works  decayed, 

And  nations  have  scattered  been; 

But  the  stout  old  Ivy  shall  never  fade, 

From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 

The  brave  old  plant  in  its  lonely  days, 

Shall  fatten  upon  the  past: 

For  the  stateliest  building  man  can  raise, 

Is  the  Ivy's  food  at  last. 

Creeping  on,  where  time  has  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 


While  the  old  gentleman  repeated  these  lines  a 
second  time,  to  enable  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  note  them 
down,  Mr.  Pickwick  perused  the  lineaments  of  his 
face  with  an  expression  of  great  interest.  The  old 
gentleman  having  concluded  his  dictation,  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  having  returned  his  note-book  to  his 
pocket,  Mr.  Pickwick  said — 

'Excuse  me,  sir,  for  making  the  remark  on  so  short 
an  acquaintance ;  but  a  gentleman  like  yourself  cannot 
fail,  I  should  think,  to  have  observed  many  scenes  and 
incidents  worth  recording,  in  the  course  of  your  ex-, 
perience  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel.' 

'I  have  witnessed  some  certainly/  replied  the  old 
gentleman ;  'but  the  incidents  and  characters  have  been 
of  a  homely  and  ordinary  nature,  my  sphere  of  action 
being  so  very  limited.' 

'You  did  make  some  notes,  I  think,  about  John 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  97 

Edmunds,  did  you  not?'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle,  who 
appeared  very  desirous  to  draw  his  friend  out,  for  the 
edification  of  his  new  visitors. 

The  old  gentleman  slightly  nodded  his  head  in  token 
of  assent,  and  was  proceeding  to  change  the  subject, 
when  Mr.  Pickwick  said — 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir ;  but  pray,  if  I  may  venture 
to  inquire,  who  was  John  Edmunds?' 

'The  very  thing  I  was  about  to  ask,'  said  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  eagerly. 

'You  are  fairly  in  for  it,'  said  the  jolly  host.  'You 
must  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  these  gentlemen,  sooner 
or  later;  so  you  had  better  take  advantage  of  this 
favourable  opportunity,  and  do  so  at  once.' 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  good-humouredly  as  he 
drew  his  chair  forward; — the  remainder  of  the  party 
drew  their  chairs  closer  together,  especially  Mr.  Tup- 
man  and  the  spinster  aunt,  who  were  possibly  rather 
hard  of  hearing ;  and  the  old  lady's  ear-trumpet  having 
been  duly  adjusted,  and  Mr.  Miller  (who  had  fallen 
asleep  during  the  recital  of  the  verses)  roused  from  his 
slumbers  by  an  admonitory  pinch,  administered  be- 
neath the  table  by  his  ex-partner  the  solemn  fat  man, 
the  old  gentleman,  without  farther  preface,  com- 
menced the  following  tale,  to  which  we  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  prefixing  the  title  of 

THE  CONVICT'S  RETURN 

'When  I  first  settled  in  this  village,'  said  the  old 
gentleman,  'which  is  now  just  five-and-twenty  years 
ago,  the  most  notorious  person  among  my  parishioners 
was  a  man  of  the  name  of  Edmunds,  who  leased  a 
small  farm  near  this  spot.  He  was  a  morose,  savage- 
hearted,  bad  man:  idle  and  dissolute  in  his  habits; 
cruel  and  ferocious  in  his  disposition.  Beyond  the 
few  lazy  and  reckless  vagabonds  with  whom  he  saun- 


98  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tered  away  his  time  in  the  fields,  or  sotted  in  the  ale- 
house, he  had  not  a  single  friend  or  acquaintance ;  no 
one  cared  to  speak  to  the  man  whom  many  feared,  and 
every  one  detested — and  Edmunds  was  shunned  by  all. 

'This  man  had  a  wife  and  one  son,  who,  when  I  first 
came  here,  was  about  twelve  years  old.  Of  the  acute- 
ness  of  that  woman's  sufferings,  of  the  gentle  and 
enduring  manner  in  which  she  bore  them,  of  the  agony 
of  solicitude  with  which  she  reared  that  boy,  no  one 
can  form  an  adequate  conception.  Heaven  forgive 
me  the  supposition,  if  it  be  an  uncharitable  one,  but 
I  do  firmly  and  in  my  soul  believe,  that  the  man  sys- 
tematically tried  for  many  years  to  break  her  heart; 
but  she  bore  it  all  for  her  child's  sake,  and,  however 
strange  it  may  seem  to  many,  for  his  father's  too ;  for 
brute  as  he  was,  and  cruelly  as  he  had  treated  her, 
she  had  loved  him  once;  and  the  recollection  of  what 
he  had  been  to  her,  awakened  feelings  of  forbearance 
and  meekness  under  suffering  in  her  bosom,  to  which 
all  God's  creatures,  but  women,  are  strangers. 

'They  were  poor — they  could  not  be  otherwise  when 
the  man  pursued  such  courses;  but  the  woman's  un- 
ceasing and  unwearied  exertions,  early  and  late,  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night,  kept  them  above  actual  want. 
Those  exertions  were  but  ill  repaid.  People  who 
passed  the  spot  in  the  evening — sometimes  at  a  late 
hour  of  the  night — reported  that  they  had  heard  the 
moans  and  sobs  of  a  woman  in  distress,  and  the  sound 
of  blows:  and  more  than  once,  when  it  was  past  mid- 
night, the  boy  knocked  softly  at  the  door  of  a  neigh- 
bour's house,  whither  he  had  been  sent,  to  escape  the 
drunken  fury  of  his  unnatural  father. 

'During  the  whole  of  this  time,  and  when  the  poor 
creature  often  bore  about  her  marks  of  ill-usage  and 
violence  which  she  could  not  wholly  conceal,  she  was  a 
constant  attendant  at  our  little  church.  Regularly 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  99 

every  Sunday,  morning  and  afternoon,  she  occupied 
the  same  seat  with,  the  boy  at  her  side;  and  though 
they  were  both  poorly  dressed — much  more  so  than 
many  of  their  neighbours  who  were  in  a  lower  station 
— they  were  always  neat  and  clean.  Every  one  had 
a  friendly  nod  and  a  kind  word  for  "poor  Mrs.  Ed- 
munds"; and  sometimes,  when  she  stopped  to  ex- 
change a  few  words  with  a  neighbour  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  service  in  the  little  row  of  elm  trees  which 
leads  to  the  church  porch,  or  lingered  behind  to  gaze 
with  a  mother's  pride  and  fondness  upon  her  healthy 
boy,  as  he  sported  before  her  with  some  little  com- 
panions, her  care-worn  face  would  lighten  up  with  an 
expression  of  heartfelt  gratitude;  and  she  would  look, 
if  not  cheerful  and  happy,  at  least  tranquil  and  con- 
tented. 

'Five  or  six  years  passed  away ;  the  boy  had  become 
a  robust  and  well-grown  youth.  The  time  that  had 
strengthened  the  child's  slight  frame  and  knit  his 
weak  limbs  into  the  strength  of  manhood  had  bowed 
his  mother's  form,  and  enfeebled  her  steps;  but  the 
arm  that  should  have  supported  her  was  no  longer 
locked  in  hers;  the  face  that  should  have  cheered  her, 
no  more  looked  upon  her  own.  She  occupied  her  old 
seat,  but  there  was  a  vacant  one  beside  her.  The 
Bible  was  kept  as  carefully  as  ever,  the  places  were 
found  and  folded  down  as  they  used  to  be:  but  there 
was  no  one  to  read  it  with  her ;  and  the  tears  fell  thick 
and  fast  upon  the  book,  and  blotted  the  words  from 
her  eyes.  Neighbours  were  as  kind  as  they  were  wont 
to  be  of  old,  but  she  shunned  their  greetings  with 
averted  head.  There  was  no  lingering  among  the  old 
elm  trees  now — no  cheering  anticipations  of  happiness 
yet  in  store.  The  desolate  woman  drew  her  bonnet 
closer  over  her  face,  and  walked  hurriedly  away. 

'Shall  I  tell  you,  that  the  young  man,  who,  looking 


100  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

back  to  the  earliest  of  his  childhood's  days  to  which 
memory  and  consciousness  extended,  and  carrying  his 
recollection  down  to  that  moment,  could  remember 
nothing  which  was  not  in  some  way  connected  with  a 
long  series  of  voluntary  privations  suffered  by  his 
mother  for  his  sake,  with  ill-usage,  and  insult,  and 
violence,  and  all  endured  for  him; — shall  I  tell  you, 
that  he,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  her  breaking 
heart,  and  a  sullen  wilful  forgetfulness  of  all  she  had 
done  and  borne  for  him,  had  linked  himself  with  de- 
praved and  abandoned  men,  and  was  madly  pursuing 
a  headlong  career,  which  must  bring  death  to  him, 
and  shame  to  her?  Alas  for  human  nature!  You 
have  anticipated  it  long  since. 

'The  measure  of  the  unhappy  woman's  misery  and 
misfortune  was  about  to  be  completed.  Numerous 
offences  had  been  committed  in  the  neighbourhood; 
the  perpetrators  remained  undiscovered,  and  their 
boldness  increased.  A  robbery  of  a  daring  and  ag- 
gravated nature  occasioned  a  vigilance  of  pursuit, 
and  a  strictness  of  search,  they  had  not  calculated  on. 
Young  Edmunds  was  suspected  with  three  compan- 
ions. He  was  apprehended — committed — tried-^-con- 
demned — to  die. 

'The  wild  and  piercing  shriek  from  a  woman's  voice, 
which  resounded  through  the  court  when  the  solemn 
sentence  was  pronounced,  rings  in  my  ears  at  this 
moment.  That  cry  struck  a  terror  to  the  culprit's 
heart,  which  trial,  condemnation — the  approach  of 
death  itself,  had  failed  to  awaken.  The  lips  which 
had  been  compressed  in  dogged  sullenness  through- 
out, quivered  and  parted  involuntarily ;  the  face  turned 
ashy  pale  as  the  cold  perspiration  broke  forth  from 
every  pore;  the  sturdy  limbs  of  the  felon  trembled,  and 
he  staggered  in  the  dock. 

'In  the  first  transports  of  her  mental  anguish,  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  101 

suffering  mother  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  at  my 
feet,  and  fervently  besought  the  Almighty  Being  who 
had  hitherto  supported  her  in  all  her  troubles,  to  re- 
lease her  from  a  world  of  woe  and  misery,  and  to 
spare  the  life  of  her  only  child.  A  burst  of  grief, 
and  a  violent  struggle,  such  as  I  hope  I  may  never 
have  to  witness  again,  succeeded.  I  knew  that  her 
heart  was  breaking  from  that  hour;  but  I  never  once 
heard  complaint  or  murmur  escape  her  lips. 

'It  was  a  piteous  spectacle  to  see  that  woman  in 
the  prison  yard  from  day  to  day,  eagerly  and  fer- 
vently attempting,  by  affection  and  entreaty,  to  soften 
the  hard  heart  of  her  obdurate  son.  It  was  in  vain. 
He  remained  moody,  obstinate,  and  unmoved.  Not 
even  the  unlooked-for  commutation  of  his  sentence  to 
transportation  for  fourteen  years,  softened  for  an 
instant  the  sullen  hardihood  of  his  demeanour. 

'But  the  spirit  of  resignation  and  endurance  that 
had  so  long  upheld  her,  was  unable  to  contend  against 
bodily  weakness  and  infirmity.  She  fell  sick.  She 
dragged  her  tottering  limbs  from  the  bed  to  visit  her 
son  once  more,  but  her  strength  failed  her,  and  she 
sunk  powerless  on  the  ground. 

'And  now  the  boasted  coldness  and  indifference  of 
the  young  man  were  tested  indeed;  and  the  retribu- 
tion that  fell  heavily  upon  him,  nearly  drove  him  mad. 
A  day  passed  away  and  his  mother  was  not  there; 
another  flew  by,  and  she  came  not  near  him;  a  third 
evening  arrived,  and  yet  he  had  not  seen  her;  and  in 
four-and-twenty  hours  he  was  to  be  separated  from 
her — perhaps  for  ever.  Oh!  how  the  long-forgotten 
thoughts  of  former  days  rushed  upon  his  mind,  as  he 
almost  ran  up  and  down  the  narrow  yard — as  if  in- 
telligence would  arrive  the  sooner  for  his  hurrying — 
and  how  bitterly  a  sense  of  his  helplessness  and  deso- 
lation rushed  upon  him,  when  he  heard  the  truth! 


102  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

His  mother,  the  only  parent  he  had  ever  known,  lay 
ill — it  might  be,  dying — within  one  mile  of  the  ground 
he  stood  on;  were  he  free  and  unfettered,  a  few 
minutes  would  place  him  by  her  side.  He  rushed  to 
the  gate,  and  grasping  the  iron  rails  with  the  energy 
of  desperation,  shook  it  till  it  rang  again,  and  threw 
himself  against  the  thick  wall  as  if  to  force  a  passage 
through  the  stone ;  but  the  strong  building  mocked  his 
feeble  efforts,  and  he  beat  his  hands  together  and 
wept  like  a  child. 

'I  bore  the  mother's  forgiveness  and  blessing  to  her 
son  in  prison;  and  I  carried  his  solemn  assurance  of 
repentance,  and  his  fervent  supplication  for  pardon, 
to  her  sick  bed.  I  heard,  with  pity  and  compassion, 
the  repentant  man  devise  a  thousand  little  plans  for 
her  comfort  and  support  when  he  returned;  but  I 
knew  that  many  months  before  he  could  reach  his 
place  of  destination,  his  mother  would  be  no  longer 
of  this  world. 

'He  was  removed  by  night.  A  few  weeks  after- 
wards the  poor  woman's  soul  took  its  flight,  I  confi- 
dently hope,  and  solemnly  believe,  to  a  place  of  eternal 
happiness  and  rest.  I  performed  the  burial  service 
over  her  remains.  She  lies  in  our  little  churchyard. 
There  is  no  stone  at  her  grave's  head.  Her  sorrows 
were  known  to  man ;  her  virtues  to  God. 

'It  had  been  arranged  previously  to  the  convict's 
departure,  that  he  should  write  to  his  mother  as  soon 
as  he  could  obtain  permission,  and  that  the  letter 
should  be  addressed  to  me.  The  father  had  positively 
refused  to  see  his  son  from  the  moment  of  his  appre- 
hension; and  it  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him 
whether  he  lived  or  died.  Many  years  passed  over 
without  any  intelligence  of  him;  and  when  more  than 
half  his  term  of  transportation  had  expired,  and  I 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  103 

had  received  no  letter,  I  concluded  him  to  be  dead,  as 
indeed,  I  almost  hoped  he  might  be. 

'Edmunds,  however,  had  been  sent  a  considerable 
distance  up  the  country  on  his  arrival  at  the  settle- 
ment; and  to  this  circumstance,  perhaps,  may  be  at- 
tributed the  fact,  that  though  several  letters  were 
despatched,  none  of  them  ever  reached  my  hands. 
He  remained  in  the  same  place  during  the  whole 
fourteen  years.  At  the  expiration  of  the  term,  stead- 
ily adhering  to  his  old  resolution  and  the  pledge  he 
gave  his  mother,  he  made  his  way  back  to  England 
amidst  innumerable  difficulties,  and  returned,  on  foot, 
to  his  native  place. 

'On  a  fine  Sunday  evening,  in  the  month  of  August, 
John  Edmunds  set  foot  in  the  village  he  had  left  with 
shame  and  disgrace  seventeen  years  before.  His 
nearest  way  lay  through  the  churchyard.  The  man's 
heart  swelled  as  he  crossed  the  stile.  The  tall  old 
elms,  through  whose  branches  the  declining  sun  cast 
here  and  there  a  rich  ray  of  light  upon  the  shady  path, 
awakened  the  associations  of  his  earliest  days.  He 
pictured  himself  as  he  was  then,  clinging  to  his 
mother's  hand,  and  walking  peacefully  to  church. 
He  remembered  how  he  used  to  look  up  into  her  pale 
face;  and  how  her  eyes  would  sometimes  fill  with 
tears  as  she  gazed  upon  his  features — tears  which  fell 
hot  upon  his  forehead  as  she  stooped  to  kiss  him,  and 
made  him  weep  too,  although  he  little  knew  then  what 
bitter  tears  hers  were.  He  thought  how  often  he  had 
run  merrily  down  that  path  with  some  childish  play- 
fellow, looking  back,  ever  and  again,  to  catch  his 
mother's  smile,  or  hear  her  gentle  voice;  and  then  a 
veil  seemed  lifted  from  his  memory,  and  words  of 
kindness  unrequited,  and  warnings  despised,  and 
promises  broken,  thronged  upon  his  recollection  till 


104  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

'He  entered  the  church.  The  evening  service  was 
concluded  and  the  congregation  had  dispersed,  but  it 
was  not  yet  closed.  His  steps  echoed  through  the 
low  building  with  a  hollow  sound,  and  he  almost  feared 
to  be  alone,  it  was  so  still  and  quiet.  He  looked  round 
him.  Nothing  was  changed.  The  place  seemed 
smaller  than  it  used  to  be,  but  there  were  the  old 
monuments  on  which  he  had  gazed  with  childish  awe 
a  thousand  times;  the  little  pulpit  with  its  faded 
cushion;  the  Communion-table  before  which  he  had 
so  often  repeated  the  Commandments  he  had  rev- 
erenced as  a  child,  and  forgotten  as  a  man.  He 
approached  the  old  seat;  it  looked  cold  and  desolate. 
The  cushion  had  been  removed,  and  the  Bible  was  not 
there.  Perhaps  his  mother  now  occupied  a  poorer 
seat,  or  possibly  she  had  grown  infirm  and  could  not 
reach  the  church  alone.  He  dared  not  think  of  what 
he  feared.  A  cold  feeling  crept  over  him,  and  he 
trembled  violently  as  he  turned  away. 

'An  old  man  entered  the  porch  just  as  he  reached 
it.  Edmunds  started  back,  for  he  knew  him  well; 
many  a  time  he  had  watched  him  digging  graves  in 
the  churchyard.  What  would  he  say  to  the  returned 
convict? 

'The  old  man  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stranger's  face, 
bid  him  "good  evening,"  and  walked  slowly  on.  He 
had  forgotten  him. 

'He  walked  down  the  hill,  and  through  the  village. 
The  weather  was  warm,  and  the  people  were  sitting 
at  their  doors,  or  strolling  in  their  little  gardens  as 
he  passed,  enjoying  the  serenity  of  the  evening,  and 
their  rest  from  labour.  Many  a  look  was  turned  to- 
wards him,  and  many  a  doubtful  glance  he  cast  on 
either  side  to  see  whether  any  knew  and  shunned  him. 
There  were  strange  faces  in  almost  every  house;  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  105 

some  he  recognised  the  burly  form  of  some  old  school- 
fellow— a  boy  when  he  last  saw  him — surrounded  by 
a  troop  of  merry  children;  in  others  he  saw,  seated 
in  an  easy-chair  at  a  cottage  door,  a  feeble  and  infirm 
old  man,  whom  he  only  remembered  as  a  hale  and 
hearty  labourer ;  but  they  had  all  forgotten  him,  and 
he  passed  on  unknown. 

'The  last  soft  light  of  the  setting  sun  had  fallen  on 
the  earth,  casting  a  rich  glow  on  the  yellow  corn 
sheaves,  and  lengthening  the  shadows  of  the  orchard 
trees,  as  he  stood  before  the  old  house — the  home  of 
his  infancy — to  which  his  heart  had  yearned  with  an 
intensity  of  affection  not  to  be  described,  through 
long  and  weary  years  of  captivity  and  sorrow.  The 
paling  was  low,  though  he  well  remembered  the  time 
when  it  had  seemed  a  high  wall  to  him:  and  he  looked 
over  into  the  old  garden.  There  were  more  seeds  and 
gayer  flowers  than  there  used  to  be,  but  there  were 
the  old  trees  still — the  very  tree,  under  which  he  had 
lain  a  thousand  times  when  tired  of  playing  in  the 
sun,  and  felt  the  soft  mild  sleep  of  happy  boyhood 
steal  gently  upon  him.  There  were  voices  within  the 
house.  He  listened,  but  they  fell  strangely  upon  his 
ear;  he  knew  them  not.  They  were  merry  too;  and 
he  well  knew  that  his  poor  old  mother  could  not  be 
cheerful,  and  he  away.  The  door  opened,  and  a 
group  of  little  children  bounded  out,  shouting  and 
romping.  The  father,  with  a  little  boy  in  his  arms, 
appeared  at  the  door,  and  they  crowded  round  him, 
clapping  their  tiny  hands,  and  dragging  him  out,  to 
join  their  joyous  sports.  The  convict  thought  on  the 
many  times  he  had  shrunk  from  his  father's  sight  in 
that  very  place.  He  remembered  how  often  he  had 
buried  his  trembling  head  beneath  the  bed-clothes, 
and  heard  the  harsh  word,  and  the  hard  stripe,  and 
his  mother's  wailing;  and  though  the  man  sobbed 


106  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

aloud  with  agony  of  mind  as  he  left  the  spot,  his  fist 
was  clenched,  and  his  teeth  were  set,  in  fierce  and 
deadly  passion. 

'And  such  was  the  return  to  which  he  had  looked 
through  the  weary  perspective  of  many  years,  and 
for  which  he  had  undergone  so  much  suffering !  No 
face  of  welcome,  no  look  of  forgiveness,  no  house  to 
receive,  no  hand  to  help  him — and  this  too  in  the  old 
village.  What  was  his  loneliness  in  the  Tvild  thick 
woods,  where  man  was  never  seen,  to  this ! 

'He  felt  that  in  the  distant  land  of  his  bondage  and 
infamy,  he  had  thought  of  his  native  place  as  it  was 
when  he  left  it;  not  as  it  would  be  when  he  returned. 
The  sad  reality  struck  coldly  at  his  heart,  and  his 
spirit  sank  within  him.  He  had  not  courage  to  make 
inquiries,  or  to  present  himself  to  the  only  person  who 
was  likely  to  receive  him  with  kindness  and  compas- 
sion. He  walked  slowly  on ;  and  shunning  the  road- 
side like  a  guilty  man,  turned  into  a  meadow  he  well 
remembered;  and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands, 
threw  himself  upon  the  grass. 

'He  had  not  observed  that  a  man  was  lying  on  the 
bank  beside  him;  his  garments  rustled  as  he  turned 
round  to  steal  a  look  at  the  new  comer;  and  Edmunds 
raised  his  head. 

'The  man  had  moved  into  a  sitting  posture.  His 
body  was  much  bent,  and  his  face  was  wrinkled  and 
yellow.  His  dress  denoted  him  an  inmate  of  the 
workhouse:  he  had  the  appearance  of  being  very  old, 
but  it  looked  more  the  effect  of  dissipation  or  disease, 
than  length  of  years.  He  was  staring  hard  at  the 
stranger,  and  though  his  eyes  were  lustreless  and 
heavy  at  first,  they  appeared  to  glow  with  an  un- 
natural and  alarmed  expression  after  they  had  been 
fixed  upon  him  foi;  a  short  time,  until  they  seemed 
to  be  starting  from  their  sockets.  Edmunds  gradu- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          107 

ally  raised  himself  to  his  knees,  and  looked  more  and 
more  earnestly  upon  the  old  man's  face.  They  gazed 
upon  each  other  in  silence. 

'The  old  man  was  ghastly  pale.     He  shuddered 

and  tottered  to  his  feet.     Edmunds  sprang  to  his. 

He  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two.     Edmunds  advanced. 

"Let  me  hear  you  speak,"  said  the  convict,  in  a 

thick  broken  voice. 

"Stand  off!"  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  dreadful 
oath.  The  convict  drew  closer  to  him. 

'  "Stand  off!"  shrieked  the  old  man.  Furious  with 
terror  he  raised  his  stick,  and  struck  Edmunds  a  heavy 
blow  across  the  face. 

"Father — devil!"  murmured  the  convict,  between 
his  set  teeth.  He  rushed  wildly  forward,  and  clenched 
the  old  man  by  the  throat — but  he  was  his  father; 
and  his  arm  fell  powerless  by  his  side. 

'The  old  man  uttered  a  loud  yell  which  rang 
through  the  lonely  fields  like  the  howl  of  an  evil  spirit 
His  face  turned  black :  the  gore  rushed  from  his  mouth 
and  nose,  and  dyed  the  grass  a  deep  dark  red,  as  he 
staggered  and  fell.  He  had  ruptured  a  blood-vessel: 
and  he  was  a  dead  man  before  his  son  could  raise  him. 
****** 

'In  that  corner  of  the  churchyard,'  said  the  old 
gentleman,  after  a  silence  of  a  few  moments,  'in  that 
corner  of  the  churchyard  of  which  I  have  before 
spoken,  there  lies  buried  a  man,  who  was  in  my  em- 
ployment for  three  years  after  this  event:  and  who  was 
truly  contrite,  penitent,  and  humbled,  if  ever  man 
was.  No  one  save  myself  knew  in  that  man's  life- 
time who  he  was,  or  whence  he  came: — it  was  John 
Edmunds  the  returned  convict.' 


108  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  VII 

HOW  MR.  WINKLE,  INSTEAD  OF  SHOOTING  AT  THE 
PIGEON  AND  KILLING  THE  CROW,  SHOT  AT  THE  CROW 
AND  WOUNDED  THE  PIGEON;  HOW  THE  DINGLEY 
DELL  CRICKET  CLUB  PLAYED  ALL-MUGGLETON,  AND 
HOW  ALL-MUGGLETON  DINED  AT  THE  DINGLEY  DELL 
EXPENSE  I  WITH  OTHER  INTERESTING  AND  INSTRUCT- 
IVE MATTERS 

THE  fatiguing  adventures  of  the  day  or  the  som- 
niferous influence  of  the  clergyman's  tale  operated  so 
strongly  on  the  drowsy  tendencies  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
that  in  less  than  five  minutes  after  he  had  been  shown 
to  his  comfortable  bed-room,  he  fell  into  a  sound  and 
dreamless  sleep,  from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by 
the  morning  sun  darting  his  bright  beams  reproach- 
fully into  the  apartment.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  no  slug- 
gard; and  he  sprang  like  an  ardent  warrior  from  his 
tent — bedstead. 

'Pleasant,  pleasant  country,'  sighed  the  enthusi- 
astic gentleman,  as  he  opened  his  lattice  window. 
'Who  could  live  to  gaze  from  day  to  day  on  bricks 
and  slates,  who  had  once  felt  the  influence  of  a  scene 
like  this?  Who  could  continue  to  exist,  where  there 
are  no  cows  but  the  cows  on  the  chimney-pots ;  nothing 
redolent  of  Pan  but  pan-tiles;  no  crop  but  stone  crop? 
Who  could  bear  to  drag  out  a  life  in  such  a  spot? 
Who  I  ask  could  endure  it?'  and,  having  cross-ex- 
amined solitude  after  the  most  approved  precedents, 
at  considerable  length,  Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head 
out  of  the  lattice,  and  looked  around  him. 

The  rich,  sweet  smell  of  the  hayricks  rose  to  his 
chamber  window;  the  hundred  perfumes  of  the  little 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  109 

flower-garden  beneath  scented  the  air  around;  the 
deep-green  meadows  shone  in  the  morning  dew  that 
glistened  on  every  leaf  as  it  trembled  in  the  gentle 
air;  and  the  birds  sang  as  if  every  sparkling  drop 
were  a  fountain  of  inspiration  to  them.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick fell  into  an  enchanting  and  delicious  reverie. 

'Hallo !'  was  the  sound  that  roused  him. 

He  looked  to  the  right,  but  he  saw  nobody ;  his  eyes 
wandered  to  the  left,  and  pierced  the  prospect;  he 
stared  into  the  sky,  but  he  wasn't  wanted  there;  and 
then  he  did  what  a  common  mind  would  have  done  at 
once — looked  into  the  garden,  and  there  saw  Mr. 
Wardle. 

'How  are  you?'  said  that  good-humoured  individ- 
ual, out  of  breath  with  his  own  anticipations  of 
pleasure.  'Beautiful  morning,  an't  it?  Glad  to  see 
you  up  so  early.  Make  haste  down,  and  come  out. 
I  '11  wait  for  you  here.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  needed  no  second  invitation.  Ten 
minutes  sufficed  for  the  completion  of  his  toilet,  and 
at  the  expiration  of  that  time  he  was  by  the  old  gentle- 
man's side. 

'Hallo !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  turn :  seeing  that 
his  companion  was  armed  with  a  gun,  and  that  an- 
other lay  ready  on  the  grass.  'What 's  going  forward  ?' 

'Why,  your  friend  and  I,'  replied  the  host,  'are 
going  out  rook-shooting  before  breakfast.  He  's  a 
very  good  shot,  an't  he?' 

'I  Ve  heard  him  say  he  's  a  capital  one,'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick ;  'but  I  never  saw  him  aim  at  anything.' 

'Well,'  said  the  host,  'I  wish  he'd  come.  Joe- 
Joe!' 

The  fat  boy,  who  under  the  exciting  influence  of 
the  morning  did  not  appear  to  be  more  than  three 
parts  and  a  fraction  asleep,  emerged  from  the  house. 


110  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Go  up,  and  call  the  gentleman,  and  tell  him  he  '11 
find  me  and  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  rookery.  Show  the 
gentleman  the  way  there;  d'  ye  hear?' 

The  boy  departed  to  execute  his  commission;  and 
the  host,  carrying  both  guns  like  a  second  Robinson 
Crusoe,  led  the  way  from  the  garden. 

'This  is  the  place,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  pausing 
after  a  few  minutes'  walking,  in  an  avenue  of  trees. 
The  information  was  unnecessary;  for  the  incessant 
cawing  of  the  unconscious  rooks  sufficiently  indicated 
their  whereabout. 

The  old  gentleman  laid  one  gun  on  the  ground,  and 
loaded  the  other. 

'Here  they  are,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  as  he 
spoke,  the  forms  of  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
and  Mr.  Winkle  appeared  in  the  distance.  The  fat 
boy,  not  being  quite  certain  which  gentleman  he  was 
directed  to  call,  had  with  peculiar  sagacity,  and  to 
prevent  the  possibility  of  any  mistake,  called  them  all. 

'Come  along,'  shouted  the  old  gentleman,  address- 
ing Mr.  Winkle ;  'a  keen  hand  like  you  ought  to  have 
been  up  long  ago,  even  to  such  poor  work  as  this.' 

Mr.  Winkle  responded  with  a  forced  smile,  and 
took  up  the  spare  gun  with  an  expression  of  counte- 
nance which  a  metaphysical  rook,  impressed  with  a 
foreboding  of  his  approaching  death  by  violence,  may 
be  supposed  to  assume.  It  might  have  been  keenness, 
but  it  looked  remarkably  like  misery. 

The  old  gentleman  nodded;  and  two  ragged  boys 
who  had  been  marshalled  to  the  spot  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  infant  Lambert,  forthwith  commenced 
climbing  up  two  of  the  trees. 

'What  are  those  lads  for?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick 
abruptly.  He  was  rather  alarmed;  for  he  was  not 
quite  certain  but  that  the  distress  of  the  agricultural 
interest,  about  which  he  had  often  heard  a  great  deal, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  111 

might  have  compelled  the  small  boys  attached  to  the 
soil  to  earn  a  precarious  and  hazardous  subsistence  by 
making  marks  of  themselves  for  inexperienced  sports- 
men. 

'Only  to  start  the  game,'  replied  Mr.  Wardle 
laughing. 

'To  what?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Why,  in  plain  English  to  frighten  the  rooks.' 

'Oh!  is  that  all?' 

'You  are  satisfied?' 

'Quite.' 

'Very  well.     Shall  I  begin?' 

'If  you  please,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  glad  of  any 
respite. 

'Stand  aside,  then.     Now  for  it.' 

The  boy  shouted,  and  shook  a  branch  with  a  nest 
on  it.  Half  a  dozen  young  rooks  in  violent  conver- 
sation, flew  out  to  ask  what  the  matter  was.  The  old 
gentleman  fired  by  way  of  reply.  Down  fell  one 
bird,  and  off  flew  the  others. 

'Take  him  up,  Joe,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

There  was  a  smile  upon  the  youth's  face  as 
he  advanced.  Indistinct  visions  of  rook-pie  floated 
through  his  imagination.  He  laughed  as  he  retired 
with  the  bird — it  was  a  plump  one. 

'Now,  Mr.  Winkle,'  said  the  host,  reloading  his  own 
gun.  'Fire  away.' 

Mr.  Winkle  advanced,  and  levelled  his  gun.  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends  cowered  involuntarily  to 
escape  damage  from  the  heavy  fall  of  rooks,  which 
they  felt  quite  certain  would  be  occasioned  by  the 
devastating  barrel  of  their  friend.  There  was  a 
solemn  pause — a  shout — a  flapping  of  wings — a  faint 
click. 

'Hallo!'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

'Won't  it  go?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 


112  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Missed  fire/  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  very  pale: 
probably  from  disappointment. 

'Odd/  said  the  old  gentleman,  taking  the  gun. 
'Never  knew  one  of  them  miss  fire  before.  Why,  I 
don't  see  anything  of  the  cap.' 

'Bless  my  soul,'  said  Mr.  Winkle.  'I  declare  I  for- 
got the  cap !' 

The  slight  omission  was  rectified.  Mr.  Pickwick 
crouched  again.  Mr.  Winkle  stepped  forward  with 
an  air  of  determination  and  resolution ;  and  Mr.  Tup- 
man  looked  out  from  behind  a  tree.  The  boy  shouted ; 
four  birds  flew  out.  Mr.  Winkle  fired.  There  was 
a  scream  as  of  an  individual — not  a  rook — in  cor- 
poreal anguish.  Mr.  Tupman  had  saved  the  lives  of 
innumerable  unoffending  birds  by  receiving  a  por- 
tion of  the  charge  in  his  left  arm. 

To  describe  the  confusion  that  ensued  would  be 
impossible.  To  tell  how  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  first 
transports  of  his  emotion  called  Mr.  Winkle  'Wretch !' 
how  Mr.  Tupman  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground; 
and  how  Mr.  Winkle  knelt  horror-stricken  beside  him ; 
how  Mr.  Tupman  called  distractedly  upon  some  femi- 
nine Christian  name,  and  then  opened  first  one  eye, 
and  then  the  other,  and  then  fell  back  and  shut  them 
both; — all  this  would  be  as  difficult  to  describe  in  de- 
tail, as  it  would  be  to  depict  the  gradual  recovering 
of  the  unfortunate  individual,  the  binding  up  of  his 
arm  with  pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  the  conveying 
him  back  by  slow  degrees  supported  by  the  arms  of 
his  anxious  friends. 

They  drew  near  the  house.  The  ladies  were  at  the 
garden-gate,  waiting  for  their  arrival  and  their  break- 
fast. The  spinster  aunt  appeared;  she  smiled,  and 
beckoned  them  to  walk  quicker.  'Twas  evident  she 
knew  not  of  the  disaster.  Poor  thing !  there  are  times 
when  ignorance  is  bliss  indeed. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  113 

They  approached  nearer. 

'Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  little  old  gentle- 
man?' said  Isabella  Wardle.  The  spinster  aunt 
heeded  not  the  remark;  she  thought  it  applied  to  Mr. 
Pickwick.  In  her  eyes  Tracy  Tupman  was  a  youth; 
she  viewed  his  years  through  a  diminishing  glass. 

'Don't  be  frightened,'  called  out  the  old  host,  fear- 
ful of  alarming  his  daughters.  The  little  party  had 
crowded  so  completely  round  Mr.  Tupman,  that  they 
could  not  yet  clearly  discern  the  nature  of  the  accident. 

'Don't  be  frightened,'  said  the  host. 

'What 's  the  matter  ?'  screamed  the  ladies. 

'Mr.  Tupman  has  met  with  a  little  accident;  that 's 
all.' 

The  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  piercing  scream,  burst 
into  an  hysteric  laugh,  and  fell  backwards  in  the  arms 
of  her  nieces. 

'Throw  some  cold  wrater  over  her/  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

'Xo,  no,'  murmured  the  spinster  aunt;  'I  am  better 
now.  Bella,  Emily — a  surgeon!  Is  he  wounded? — 
Is  he  dead? — Is  he — ha,  ha,  ha!'  Here  the  spinster 
aunt  burst  into  fit  number  two,  of  hysteric  laughter 
interspersed  with  screams. 

'Calm  yourself,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  affected  almost 
to  tears  by  this  expression  of  sympathy  with  his  suf- 
ferings. 'Dear,  dear  madam,  calm  yourself.' 

'It  is  his  voice!'  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt;  and 
strong  symptoms  of  fit  number  three  developed  them- 
selves forthwith. 

'Do  not  agitate  yourself,  I  entreat  you,  dearest 
madam/  said  Mr.  Tupman  soothingly.  'I  am  very 
little  hurt,  I  assure  you.' 

'Then  you  are  not  dead!'  ejaculated  the  hysterical 
lady.  'Oh,  say  you  are  not  dead !' 

'Don't  be  a  fool,  Rachael,'  interposed  Mr.  Wardle, 


114  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

rather  more  roughly  than  was  quite  consistent  with 
the  poetic  nature  of  the  scene.  'What  the  devil's 
the  use  of  his  saying  he  isn't  dead?' 

'No,  no,  I  am  not,'  said  Mr.  Tupman.  'I  require 
no  assistance  but  yours.  Let  me  lean  on  your  arm.' 
He  added,  in  a  whisper,  'Oh,  Miss  Rachael!'  The 
agitated  female  advanced,  and  offered  her  arm. 
They  turned  into  the  breakfast  parlour.  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman  gently  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  sank 
upon  the  sofa. 

'Are  you  faint?'  inquired  the  anxious  Rachael. 

'No,'  said  Mr.  Tupman.  'It  is  nothing.  I  shall 
be  better  presently.'  He  closed  his  eyes. 

'He  sleeps,'  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.  (His 
organs  of  vision  had  been  closed  nearly  twenty  sec- 
onds.) 'Dear — dear — Mr.  Tupman!' 

Mr.  Tupman  jumped  up — 'Oh,  say  those  words 
again !'  he  exclaimed. 

The  lady  started.  *  Surely  you  did  not  hear  them!' 
she  said,  bashfully. 

'Oh  yes,  I  did!'  replied  Mr.  Tupman;  'repeat  them. 
If  you  would  have  me  recover,  repeat  them.' 

'Hush !'  said  the  lady.     'My  brother.' 

Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  resumed  his  former  position; 
and  Mr.  Wardle,  accompanied  by  a  surgeon,  entered 
the  room. 

The  arm  was  examined,  the  wound  dressed,  and 
pronounced  to  be  a  very  slight  one;  and  the  minds  of 
the  company  having  been  thus  satisfied,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  satisfy  their  appetites  with  countenances 
to  which  an  expression  of  cheerfulness  was  again  re- 
stored. Mr.  Pickwick  alone  was  silent  and  reserved. 
Doubt  and  distrust  were  exhibited  in  his  countenance. 
His  confidence  in  Mr.  Winkle  had  been  shaken — 
greatly  shaken — by  the  proceedings  of  the  morning. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  115 

'Are  you  a  cricketer?'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  of  the 
marksman. 

At  any  other  time,  Mr.  Winkle  would  have  replied 
in  the  affirmative.  He  felt  the  delicacy  of  his  situa- 
tion, and  modestly  replied,  'No.' 

'Are  you,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'I  was  once  upon  a  time,'  replied  the  host;  'but  I 
have  given  it  up  now.  I  subscribe  to  the  club  here, 
but  I  don't  play/ 

'The  grand  match  is  played  to-day,  I  believe,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It  is,'  replied  the  host.  'Of  course  you  would  like 
to  see  it.' 

'I,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'am  delighted  to  view 
any  sports  which  may  be  safely  indulged  in,  and  in 
which  the  impotent  effects  of  unskilful  people  do  not 
endanger  human  life.'  Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and 
looked  steadily  on  Mr.  Winkle,  who  quailed  beneath 
his  leader's  searching  glance.  The  great  man  with- 
drew his  eyes  after  a  few  minutes,  and  added:  'Shall 
we  be  justified  in  leaving  our  wounded  friend  to  the 
care  of  the  ladies  ?' 

'You  cannot  leave  me  in  better  hands,'  said  Mr. 
Tupman. 

'Quite  impossible,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

It  was  therefore  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman  should 
be  left  at  home  in  charge  of  the  females;  and  that 
the  remainder  of  the  guests,  under  the  guidance  of 
Mr.  Wardle,  should  proceed  to  the  spot  where  was  to 
be  held  that  trial  of  skill,  which  had  roused  all  Muggle- 
ton  from  its  torpor,  and  inoculated  Dingley  Dell  with 
a  fever  of  excitement. 

As  their  walk,  which  was  not  above  two  miles  long, 
lay  through  shady  lanes,  and  sequestered  footpaths, 
and  as  their  conversation  turned  upon  the  delightful 


116  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

scenery  by  which  they  were  on  every  side  surrounded, 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  almost  inclined  to  regret  the  expe- 
dition they  had  used,  when  he  found  himself  in  the 
main  street  of  the  town  of  Muggleton. 

Everybody  whose  genius  has  a  topographical  bent 
knows  perfectly  well  that  Muggleton  is  a  corporate 
town,  with  a  mayor,  burgesses,  and  freemen ;  and  any- 
body who  has  consulted  the  addresses  of  the  mayor 
to  the  freemen,  or  the  freemen  to  the  mayor,  or  both 
to  the  corporation,  or  all  three  to  Parliament,  will 
learn  from  thence  what  they  ought  to  have  known  be- 
fore, that  Muggleton  is  an  ancient  and  loyal  borough, 
mingling  a  zealous  advocacy  of  Christian  principles 
with  a  devoted  attachment  to  commercial  rights;  in 
demonstration  whereof,  the  mayor,  corporation,  and 
other  inhabitants,  have  presented  at  divers  times,  no 
fewer  than  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty 
petitions  against  the  continuance  of  negro  slavery 
abroad,  and  an  equal  number  against  any  interference 
with  the  factory  system  at  home ;  sixty-eight  in  favour 
of  the  sale  of  livings  in  the  Church,  and  eighty-six  for 
abolishing  Sunday  trading  in  the  street. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  in  the  principal  street  of  this 
illustrious  town,  and  gazed  with  an  air  of  curiosity, 
not  unmixed  with  interest,  on  the  objects  around  him. 
There  was  an  open  square  for  the  market-place;  and 
in  the  centre  of  it,  a  large  inn  with  a  sign-post  in 
front,  displaying  an  object  very  common  in  art,  but 
rarely  met  with  in  nature — to  wit,  a  blue  lion,  with 
three  bow  legs  in  the  air,  balancing  himself  on  the 
extreme  point  of  the  centre  claw  of  his  fourth  foot. 
There  were,  within  sight,  an  auctioneer's  and  fire- 
agency  office,  a  corn-factor's,  a  linen-draper's,  a  sad- 
dler's, a  distiller's,  a  grocer's,  and  a  shoe-shop — the 
last-mentioned  warehouse  being  also  appropriated  to 
the  diffusion  of  hats,  bonnets,  wearing  apparel,  cotton 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  117 

umbrellas,  and  useful  knowledge.  There  was  a  red 
brick  house  with  a  small  paved  court-yard  in  front, 
which  anybody  might  have  known  belonged  to  the 
attorney;  and  there  was,  moreover,  another  red  brick 
house  with  Venetian  blinds,  and  a  large  door-plate, 
with  a  very  legible  announcement  that  it  belonged  to 
the  surgeon.  A  few  boys  were  making  their  way  to 
the  cricket-field;  and  two  or  three  shopkeepers  who 
were  standing  at  their  doors,  looked  as  if  they  should 
like  to  be  making  their  way  to  the  same  spot,  as  indeed 
to  all  appearance  they  might  have  done,  without  losing 
any  great  amount  of  custom  thereby.  Mr.  Pickwick 
having  paused  to  make  these  observations,  to  be  noted 
down  at  a  more  convenient  period,  hastened  to  rejoin 
his  friends,  who  had  turned  out  of  the  main  street, 
and  were  already  within  sight  of  the  field  of  battle. 

The  wickets  were  pitched,  and  so  were  a  couple  of 
marquees  for  the  rest  and  refreshment  of  the  con- 
tending parties.  The  game  had  not  yet  commenced. 
Two  or  three  Dingley  Dellers,  and  All-Muggleto- 
nians,  were  amusing  themselves  with  a  majestic  air  by 
throwing  the  ball  carelessly  from  hand  to  hand;  and 
several  other  gentlemen  dressed  like  them,  in  straw 
hats,  flannel  jackets,  and  white  trousers — a  costume 
in  which  they  looked  very  much  like  amateur  stone- 
masons— were  sprinkled  about  the  tents,  towards  one 
of  which  Mr.  Wardle  conducted  the  party. 

Several  dozen  of  'How-are-you's  ?'  hailed  the  old 
gentleman's  arrival ;  and  a  general  raising  of  the  straw 
hats,  and  bending  forward  of  the  flannel  jackets,  fol- 
lowed his  introduction  of  his  guests  as  gentlemen 
from  London,  who  were  extremely  anxious  to  witness 
the  proceedings  of  the  day,  with  which,  he  had  no 
doubt,  they  would  be  greatly  delighted. 

'You  had  better  step  into  the  marquee,  I  think,  sir,' 
said  one  very  stout  gentleman,  whose  body  and  legs 


118  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

looked  like  half  a  gigantic  roll  of  flannel,  elevated  on 
a  couple  of  inflated  pillow-cases. 

'You  '11  find  it  much  pleasanter,  sir,'  urged  another 
stout  gentleman,  who  strongly  resembled  the  other 
half  of  the  roll  of  flannel  aforesaid. 

'You  're  very  good,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'This  way,'  said  the  first  speaker;  'they  notch  in  here 
— it 's  the  best  place  in  the  whole  field' ;  and  the  crick- 
eter, panting  on  before,  preceded  them  to  the  tent. 

'Capital  game — smart  sport — fine  exercise — very,* 
were  the  words  which  fell  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  ear  as 
he  entered  the  tent;  and  the  first  object  that  met  his 
eyes  was  his  green-coated  friend  of  the  Rochester 
coach,  holding  forth,  to  the  no  small  delight  and  edifi- 
cation of  a  select  circle  of  the  chosen  of  All-Muggle- 
ton.  His  dress  was  slightly  improved,  and  he  wore 
boots ;  but  there  was  no  mistaking  him. 

The  stranger  recognised  his  friends  immediately; 
and,  darting  forward  and  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by 
the  hand,  dragged  him  to  a  seat  with  his  usual  im- 
petuosity, talking  all  the  while  as  if  the  whole  of  the 
arrangements  were  under  his  especial  patronage  and 
direction. 

'This  way — this  way — capital  fun — lots  of  beer- 
hogsheads;  rounds  of  beef — bullocks;  mustard — cart 
loads;  glorious  day — down  with  you — make  yourself 
at  home — glad  to  see  you — very.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  as  he  was  bid,  and  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  also  complied  with  the 
directions  of  their  mysterious  friend.  Mr.  Wardle 
looked  on,  in  silent  wonder. 

'Mr.  Wardle — a  friend  of  mine,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Friend  of  yours! — My  dear  sir,  how  are  you? — 
Friend  of  my  friend's — give  me  your  hand,  sir' — and 
the  stranger  grasped  Mr.  Wardle's  hand  with  all  the 
fervour  of  «a  close  intimacy  of  many  years,  and  then 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  119 

stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  as  if  to  take  a  full  survey 
of  his  face  and  figure,  and  then  shook  hands  with 
him  again,  if  possible,  more  warmly  than  before. 

'Well;  and  how  came  you  here?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  smile  in  which  benevolence  struggled  with  sur- 
prise. 

'Come,'  replied  the  stranger — 'stopping  at  Crown — 
Crown  at  Muggleton— met  a  party— flannel  jackets 
—white  trousers — anchovy  sandwiches — devilled  kid- 
neys— splendid  fellows — glorious.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently  versed  in  the  stran- 
ger's system  of  stenography  to  infer  from  this  rapid 
and  disjointed  communication  that  he  had,  somehow 
or  other,  contracted  an  acquaintance  with  the  All- 
Muggletons,  which  he  had  converted,  by  a  process 
peculiar  to  himself,  into  that  extent  of  good  fellow- 
ship on  which  a  general  invitation  may  be  easily 
founded.  His  curiosity  was  therefore  satisfied,  and 
putting  on  his  spectacles  he  prepared  himself  to  watch 
the  play  which  was  just  commencing. 

All-Muggleton  had  the  first  innings ;  and  the  inter- 
est became  intense  when  Mr.  Dumkins  and  Mr.  Pod- 
der,  two  of  the  most  renowned  members  of  that  most 
distinguished  club,  walked,  bat  in  hand,  to  their  re- 
spective wickets.  Mr.  Luffey,  the  highest  ornament 
of  Dingley  Dell,  was  pitched  to  bowl  against  the 
redoubtable  Dumkins,  and  Mr.  Struggles  was  selected 
to  do  the  same  kind  office  for  the  hitherto  unconquered 
Podder.  Several  players  were  stationed,  to  'look  out,' 
in  different  parts  of  the  field,  and  each  fixed  himself 
into  the  proper  attitude  by  placing  one  hand  on  each 
knee,  and  stooping  very  much  as  if  he  were  'making 
a  back'  for  some  beginner  at  leap-frog.  All  the  regu^ 
lar  players  do  this  sort  of  thing ; — indeed  it 's  gen- 
erally supposed  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  look  out 
properly  in  any  other  position. 


120  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  umpires  were  stationed  behind  the  wickets ;  the 
scorers  were  prepared  to  notch  the  runs ;  a  breathless 
silence  ensued.  Mr.  LufFey  retired  a  few  paces  be- 
hind the  wicket  of  the  passive  Podder,  and  applied 
the  ball  to  his  right  eye  for  several  seconds.  Dum- 
kins  confidently  awaited  its  coming  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  motions  of  LufFey. 

'Play!'  suddenly  cried  the  bowler.  The  ball  flew 
from  his  hand  straight  and  swift  towards  the  centre 
stump  of  the  wicket.  The  wary  Dumkins  was  on  the 
alert ;  it  fell  upon  the  tip  of  the  bat,  and  bounded  far 
away  over  the  heads  of  the  scouts,  who  had  just 
stooped  low  enough  to  let  it  fly  over  them. 

'Run — run — another. — Now,  then,  throw  her  up — 
up  with  her — stop  there — another — no — yes — no — 
throw  her  up,  throw  her  up !' — Such  were  the  shouts 
which  followed  the  stroke;  and,  at  the  conclusion  of 
which  All-Muggleton  had  scored  two.  Nor  was  Pod- 
der behindhand  in  earning  laurels  wherewith  to  gar- 
nish himself  and  Muggleton.  He  blocked  the  doubt- 
ful balls,  missed  the  bad  ones,  took  the  good  ones, 
and  sent  them  flying  to  all  parts  of  the  field.  The 
scouts  were  hot  and  tired;  the  bowlers  were  changed 
and  bowled  till  their  arms  ached;  but  Dumkins  and 
Podder  remained  unconquered.  Did  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman essay  to  stop  the  progress  of  the  ball,  it  rolled 
between  his  legs  or  slipped  between  his  fingers.  Did 
a  slim  gentleman  try  to  catch  it,  it  struck  him  on  the 
nose,  and  bounded  pleasantly  off  with  redoubled  vio- 
lence, while  the  slim  gentleman's  eyes  filled  with  water, 
and  his  form  writhed  with  anguish.  Was  it  thrown 
straight  up  to  the  wicket,  Dumkins  had  reached  it 
before  the  ball.  In  short,  when  Dumkins  was  caught 
out,  and  Podder  stumped  out,  All-Muggleton 
had  notched  some  fifty-four,  while  the  score  of  the 
Dingley  Dellers  was  as  blank  as  their  faces.  The 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  121 

advantage  was  too  great  to  be  recovered.  In  vain  did 
the  eager  LufFey,  and  the  enthusiastic  Struggles,  do 
all  that  skill  and  experience  could  suggest,  to  regain 
the  ground  Dingley  Dell  had  lost  in  the  contest; — it 
was  of  no  avail ;  and  in  an  early  period  of  the  winning 
game  Dingley  Dell  gave  in,  and  allowed  the  superior 
prowess  of  All-Muggleton. 

The  stranger,  meanwhile,  had  been  eating,  drink- 
ing, and  talking,  without  cessation.  At  every  good 
stroke  he  expressed  his  satisfaction  and  approval  of 
the  player  in  a  most  condescending  and  patronising 
manner,  which  could  not  fail  to  have  been  highly  grati- 
fying to  the  party  concerned;  while  at  every  bad  at- 
tempt at  a  catch,  and  every  failure  to  stop  the  ball, 
he  launched  his  personal  displeasure  at  the  head  of 
the  devoted  individual  in  such  denunciations — as  'Ah, 
ah !— stupid'— 'Xow,  butter-fingers'— 'Muff'-  -'Hum- 
bug'— and  so  forth — ejaculations  which  seemed  to 
establish  him  in  the  opinion  of  all  around,  as  a  most 
excellent  and  undeniable  judge  of  the  whole  art  and 
mystery  of  the  noble  game  of  cricket. 

'Capital  game — well  played— some  strokes  admi- 
rable,' said  the  stranger,  as  both  sides  crowded  into 
the  tent,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  game. 

'You  have  played  it,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle,  who 
had  been  much  amused  by  his  loquacity. 

'Played  it!  Think  I  have — thousands  of  times— 
not  here — West  Indies — exciting  thing — hot  work- 
very.' 

'It  must  be  rather  a  warm  pursuit  in  such  a  climate,' 
observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Warm ! — red  hot — scorching — glowing.  Played  a 
match  once — single  wicket — friend  the  Colonel — Sir 
Thomas  Blazo — who  should  get  the  greatest  number 
of  runs. — Won  the  toss — first  innings — seven  o'clock 
A.M. — six  natives  to  look  out — went  in;  kept  in — heat 


122          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

intense— natives  all  fainted— taken  away— fresh  half- 
dozen  ordered— fainted  also— Blazo  bowling— sup- 
ported by  two  natives — couldn't  bowl  me  out— fainted 
too—cleared  away  the  Colonel— wouldn't  give  in- 
faithful  attendant— Quanko  Samba— last  man  left 
—sun  so  hot,  bat  in  blisters— ball  scorched  brown— five 
hundred  and  seventy  runs — rather  exhausted- 
Quanko  mustered  up  last  remaining  strength — bowled 
me  out — had  a  bath,  and  went  out  to  dinner.' 

'And  what  became  of  what 's-his-name,  sir?'  in- 
quired an  old  gentleman. 
'Blazo?' 

'No — the  other  gentleman.' 
'Quanko  Samba?' 
'Yes,  sir.' 

'Poor  Quanko — never  recovered  it — bowled  on,  on 
my  account — bowled  off,  on  his  own — died,  sir.' 
Here  the  stranger  buried  his  countenance  in  a  brown 
jug,  but  whether  to  hide  his  emotion  or  imbibe  its 
contents,  we  cannot  distinctly  affirm.  We  only  know 
that  he  paused  suddenly,  drew  a  long  and  deep  breath, 
and  looked  anxiously  on,  as  two  of  the  principal  mem- 
bers of  the  Dingley  Dell  club  approached  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, and  said— 

'We  are  about  to  partake  of  a  plain  dinner  at  the 
Blue  Lion,  sir;  we  hope  you  and  your  friends  will 
join  us.' 

'Of  course,'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  'among  our  friends 
we  include  Mr.  -  '  and  he  looked  towards  the 
stranger. 

'Jingle,'  said  that  versatile  gentleman,  taking  the 
hint  at  once.  'Jingle — Alfred  Jingle,  Esq.,  of  No 
Hall,  Nowhere.' 

'I  shall  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'So  shall  I,'  said  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  drawing  one 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  123 

arm  through  Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  another  through 
Mr.  Wardle's,  as  he  whispered  confidentially  in  the 
ear  of  the  former  gentleman : — 

'Devilish  good  dinner — cold,  but  capital — peeped 
into  the  room  this  morning — fowls  and  pies,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing — pleasant  fellows  these — well  be- 
haved, too — very.' 

There  being  no  further  preliminaries  to  arrange, 
the  company  straggled  into  the  town  in  little  knots 
of  twos  and  threes;  and  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
were  all  seated  in  the  great  room  of  the  Blue  Lion 
Inn,  Muggleton — Mr.  Dumkins  acting  as  chairman, 
and  Mr.  Luff  ey  officiating  as  vice. 

There  was  a  vast  deal  of  talking  and  rattling  of 
knives  and  forks,  and  plates:  a  great  running  about 
of  three  ponderous  headed  waiters,  and  a  rapid  dis- 
appearance of  the  substantial  viands  on  the  table;  to 
each  and  every  of  which  item  of  confusion,  the  fa- 
cetious Mr.  Jingle  lent  the  aid  of  half  a  dozen  ordi- 
nary men  at  least.  When  everybody  had  eaten  as 
much  as  possible,  the  cloth  was  removed,  bottles, 
glasses,  and  dessert  were  placed  on  the  table;  and  the 
waiters  withdrew  to  'clear  away,'  or  in  other  words, 
to  appropriate  to  their  own  private  use  and  emolu- 
ment whatever  remnants  of  the  eatables  and  drinkables 
they  could  contrive  to  lay  their  hands  on. 

Amidst  the  general  hum  of  mirth  and  conversation 
that  ensued,  there  was  a  Httle  man  with  a  puffy  Say- 
nothing-to-me,-or-I  '11-contradict-you  sort  of  counte- 
nance, who  remained  very  quiet;  occasionally  looking 
round  him  when  the  conversation  slackened,  as  if  he 
contemplated  putting  in  something  very  weighty; 
and  now  and  then  bursting  into  a  short  cough  of  in- 
expressible grandeur.  At  length,  during  a  moment 
of  comparative  silence,  the  little  man  called  out  in  a 
very  loud,  solemn  voice — 


124  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Mr.  Luffeyl' 

Everybody  was  hushed  into  a  profound  stillness  as 
the  individual  addressed,  replied — 

'Sirl' 

'I  wish  to  address  a  few  words  to  you,  sir,  if  you 
will  entreat  the  gentlemen  to  fill  their  glasses.' 

Mr.  Jingle  uttered  a  patronising  'hear,  hear,'  which 
was  responded  to  by  the  remainder  of  the  company : 
and  the  glasses  having  been  filled,  the  Vice-President 
assumed  an  air  of  wisdom  in  a  state  of  profound  at- 
tention; and  said — 

'Mr.  Staple.' 

'Sir,'  said  the  little  man,  rising,  'I  wish  to  address 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you  and  not  to  our  worthy 
chairman,  because  our  worthy  chairman  is  in  some 
measure — I  may  say  in  a  great  degree — the  subject 
of  what  I  have  to  say,  or  I  may  say  to — to — ' 

'State,'  suggested  Mr.  Jingle. 

— 'Yes,  to  state/  said  the  little  man,  'I  thank  my 
honourable  friend,  if  he  will  allow  me  to  call  him  so— 
(four  hears,  and  one  certainly  from  Mr.  Jingle)  — for 
the  suggestion.  Sir,  I  am  a  Deller — a  Dingley 
Deller  (cheers) .  I  cannot  lay  claim  to  the  honour  of 
forming  an  item  in  the  population  of  Muggleton; 
nor,  sir,  I  will  frankly  admit,  do  I  covet  that  honour: 
and  I  will  tell  you  why,  sir — (hear)  ;  to  Muggleton 
I  will  readily  concede  all  those  honours  and  distinc- 
tions to  which  it  can  fairly  lay  claim — they  are  too 
numerous  and  too  well  known  to  require  aid  or  re- 
capitulation from  me.  But,  sir,  while  we  remember 
that  Muggleton  has  given  birth  to  a  Dumkins  and 
a  Podder,  let  us  never  forget  that  Dingley  Dell  can 
boast  a  Luffey  and  a  Struggles.  (Vociferous  cheer- 
ing.) Let  me  not  be  considered  as  wishing  to  detract 
from  the  merits  of  the  former  gentlemen.  Sir,  I 
envy  them  the  luxury  of  their  own  feelings  on  this 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  125 

occasion.  (Cheers.)  Every  gentleman  who  hears 
me,  is  probably  acquainted  with  the  reply  made  by  an 
individual,  who — to  use  an  ordinary  figure  of  speech 
— "hung  out"  in  a  tub,  to  the  emperor  Alexander:— 
"If  I  were  not  Diogenes,"  said  he,  "I  would  be  Alex' 
ander."  I  can  well  imagine  these  gentlemen  to  say, 
"If  I  were  not  Dumkins  I  would  be  Luffey ;  if  I  were 
not  Podder  I  would  be  Struggles."  (Enthusiasm.) 
But,  gentlemen  of  Muggleton,  is  it  in  cricket  alone 
that  your  fellow-townsmen  stand  pre-eminent?  Have 
you  never  heard  of  Dumkins  and  determination? 
Have  you  never  been  taught  to  associate  Podder  with 
property?  (Great  applause.)  Have  you  never, 
when  struggling  for  your  rights,  your  liberties,  and 
your  privileges,  been  reduced,  if  only  for  an  instant, 
to  misgiving  and  despair?  And  when  you  have  been 
thus  depressed,  has  not  the  name  of  Dumkins  laid 
afresh  within  your  breast  the  fire  which  has  just  gone 
out;  and  has  not  a  word  from  that  man,  lighted  it 
again  as  brightly  as  if  it  had  never  expired?  (Great 
cheering. )  Gentlemen,  I  beg  to  surround  with  a  rich 
halo  of  enthusiastic  cheering  the  united  names  of 
"Dumkins  and  Podder." 

Here  the  little  man  ceased,  and  here  the  company 
commenced  a  raising  of  voices,  and  thumping  of 
tables,  which  lasted  with  little  intermission  during  the 
remainder  of  the  evening.  Other  toasts  were  drunk. 
Mr.  Luffey  and  Mr.  Struggles,  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Jingle,  were,  each  in  his  turn,  the  subject  of  un 
qualified  eulogium;  and  each  in  due  course  returned 
thanks  for  the  honour. 

Enthusiastic  as  we  are  in  the  noble  cause  to  which 
we  have  devoted  ourselves,  we  should  have  felt  a  sen- 
sation of  pride  which  we  cannot  express,  and  a 
consciousness  of  having  done  something  to  merit 
immortality  of  which  we  are  now  deprived,  could  we 


126  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

have  laid  the  faintest  outline  of  these  addresses  before 
our  ardent  readers.  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  usual,  took 
a  great  mass  of  notes,  which  would  no  doubt  have 
afforded  most  useful  and  valuable  information,  had 
not  the  burning  eloquence  of  the  words  or  the  feverish 
influence  of  the  wine  made  that  gentleman's  hand  so 
extremely  unsteady,  as  to  render  his  writing  nearly 
unintelligible,  and  his  style  wholly  so.  By  dint  of 
patient  investigation,  we  have  been  enabled  to  trace 
some  characters  bearing  a  faint  resemblance  to  the 
names  of  the  speakers;  and  we  can  also  discern  an 
entry  of  a  song  (supposed  to  have  been  sung  by  Mr. 
Jingle),  in  which  the  words  'bowl'  'sparkling'  'ruby' 
'bright,'  and  'wine'  are  frequently  repeated  at  short 
intervals.  We  fancy  too,  that  we  can  discern  at  the 
very  end  of  the  notes,  some  indistinct  reference  to 
'broiled  bones';  and  then  the  words  'cold'  'without' 
occur:  but  as  any  hypothesis  we  could  found  upon 
them  must  necessarily  rest  upon  mere  conjecture,  we 
are  not  disposed  to  indulge  in  any  of  the  speculations 
to  which  they  may  give  rise. 

We  will  therefore  return  to  Mr.  Tupman:  merely 
adding  that  within  some  few  minutes  before  twelve 
o'clock  that  night,  the  convocation  of  worthies  of 
Dmgley  Dell  and  Muggleton  were  heard  to  sing,  with 
great  feeling  and  emphasis,  the  beautiful  and  pathetic 
national  air  of 

We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 

We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 

We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 

'Till  daylight  doth  appear. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  127 


CHAPTER  VIII 

STRONGLY   ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  POSITION,  THAT  THE 
COURSE    OF   TRUE   LOVE   IS   NOT   A   RAILWAY 

THE  quiet  seclusion  of  Dingley  Dell,  the  presence  of 
so  many  of  the  gentler  sex,  and  the  solicitude  and 
anxiety  they  evinced  in  his  behalf,  were  all  favourable 
to  the  growth  and  development  of  those  softer  feel- 
ings which  nature  had  implanted  deep  in  the  bosom  of 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  and  which  now  appeared  destined 
to  centre  in  one  lovely  object.  The  young  ladies  were 
pretty,  their  manners  winning,  their  dispositions  un- 
exceptionable; but  there  was  a  dignity  in  the  air,  a 
touch-me-not-ishness  in  the  walk,  a  majesty  in  the 
eye  of  the  spinster  aunt,  to  which,  at  their  time  of  life, 
they  could  lay  no  claim,  which  distinguished  her  from 
any  female  on  whom  Mr.  Tupman  had  ever  gazed. 
That  there  was  something  kindred  in  their  nature, 
something  congenial  in  their  souls,  something  mys- 
teriously sympathetic  in  their  bosoms,  was  evident. 
Her  name  was  the  first  that  rose  to  Mr.  Tupman's 
lips  as  he  lay  wounded  on  the  grass ;  and  her  hysteric 
laughter  was  the  first  sound  that  fell  upon  his  ear 
when  he  was  supported  to  the  house.  But  had  her 
agitation  arisen  from  an  amiable  and  feminine  sensi- 
bility which  would  have  been  equally  irrepressible  in 
any  case ;  or  had  it  been  called  forth  by  a  more  ardent 
and  passionate  feeling,  which  he,  of  all  men  living, 
could  alone  awaken?  These  were  the  doubts  which 
racked  his  brain  as  he  lay  extended  on  the  sofa :  these 
were  the  doubts  which  he  determined  should  be  at 
once  and  for  ever  resolved. 

It  was  evening.     Isabella  and  Emily  had  strolled 
out  with  Mr.  Trundle;  the  deaf  old  lady  had  fallen 


128  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

asleep  in  her  chair;  the  snoring  of  the  fat  boy,  pene> 
trated  in  a  low  and  monotonous  sound  from  the  dis- 
tant kitchen;  the  buxom  servants  were  lounging  at 
the  side-door,  enjoying  the  pleasantness  of  the  hour, 
and  the  delights  of  a  flirtation,  on  first  principles,  with 
certain  unwieldy  animals  attached  to  the  farm;  and 
there  sat  the  interesting  pair,  uncared  for  by  all,  car- 
ing for  none,  and  dreaming  only  of  themselves ;  there 
they  sat,  in  short,  like  a  pair  of  carefully-folded  kid- 
gloves — bound  up  in  each  other. 

'I  have  forgotten  my  flowers,'  said  the  spinster 
aunt. 

'Water  them  now/  said  Mr.  Tupman  in  accents  of 
persuasion. 

"You  will  take  cold  in  the  evening  air,'  urged  the 
spinster  aunt,  affectionately. 

'Xo,  no/  said  Mr.  Tupman,  rising;  'it  will  do  me 
good.  Let  me  accompany  you/ 

The  lady  paused  to  adjust  the  sling  in  which  the 
left  arm  of  the  youth  was  placed,  and  taking  his  right 
arm  led  him  to  the  garden. 

There  was  a  bower  at  the  further  end,  with  honey- 
suckle, jessamine,  and  creeping  plants — one  of  those 
sweet  retreats  which  humane  men  erect  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  spiders. 

The  spinster  aunt  took  up  a  large  watering-pot 
which  lay  in  one  corner,  and  was  about  to  leave  the 
arbour..  Mr.  Tupman  detained  her,  and  drew  her  to 
a  seat  beside  him. 

'Miss  Wardle !'  said  he. 

The  spinster  aunt  trembled,  till  some  pebbles  which 
had  accidentally  found  their  way  into  the  large  water- 
ing-pot shook  like  an  infant's  rattle. 

'Miss  Wardle/  said  Mr.   Tupman,   'you  are   an 

i  » 

angel. 


THE   FAT   BOY   AWAKE. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  129 

'Mr.  Tupman!'  exclaimed  Rachael,  blushing  as  red 
as  the  watering-pot  itself. 

'Nay,'  said  the  eloquent  Pickwickian, — 'I  know  it 
but  too  well.' 

'All  women  are  angels,  they  say,'  murmured  the 
lady,  playfully. 

'Then  what  can  you  be;  or  to  what,  without  pre- 
sumption, can  I  compare  you?'  replied  Mr.  Tupman. 
'Where  was  the  woman  ever  seen  who  resembled  you? 
Where  else  could  I  hope  to  find  so  rare  a  combination 
of  excellence  and  beauty?  Where  else  could  I  seek 
to —  Oh!'  Here  Mr.  Tupman  paused,  and  pressed 
the  hand  which  clasped  the  handle  of  the  happy 
watering-pot. 

The  lady  turned  aside  her  head.  'Men  are  such 
deceivers,'  she  softly  whispered. 

'They  are,  they  are,'  ejaculated  Mr.  Tupman;  'but 
not  all  men.  There  lives  at  least  one  being  who  can 
never  change — one  being  who  would  be  content  to 
devote  his  whole  existence  to  your  happiness — who 
lives  but  in  your  eyes— who  breathes  but  in  your 
smiles — who  bears  the  heavy  burden  of  life  itself  only 
for  you.' 

'Could  such  an  individual  be  found,'  said  the 
lady— 

'But  he  can  be  found,'  said  the  ardent  Mr.  Tup- 
man, interposing.  'He  is  found.  He  is  here,  Miss 
Wardle.'  And  ere  the  lady  was  aware  of  his  inten- 
tion, Mr.  Tupman  had  sunk  upon  his  knees  at  her 
feet. 

'Mr.  Tupman,  rise,'  said  Rachael. 

'Never!'  was  the  valorous  reply.     'Oh,  Rachael !' 
He  seized  her  passive  hand,  and  the  watering-pot  fell 
to  the   ground   as  he   pressed  it  to  his  lips. — 'Oh, 
Rachael!  say  you  love  me.' 


130  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Mr.  Tupman,'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  averted 
hea(l__'I  can  hardly  speak  the  words;  but— but— you 
are  not  wholly  indifferent  to  me.' 

Mr.  Tupman  no  sooner  heard  this  avowal,  than  he 
proceeded  to  do  what  his  enthusiastic  emotions 
prompted,  and  what,  for  aught  we  know  (for  we  are 
but  little  acquainted  with  such  matters),  people  so 
circumstanced  always  do.  He  jumped  up,  and, 
throwing  his  arm  round  the  neck  of  the  spinster  aunt, 
imprinted  upon  her  lips  numerous  kisses,  which  after 
a  due  show  of  struggling  and  resistance,  she  received 
so  passively,  that  there  is  no  telling  how  many  more 
Mr.  Tupman  might  have  bestowed,  if  the  lady  had 
not  given  a  very  unaffected  start  and  exclaimed  in 
an  affrighted  tone— 

'Mr.  Tupman,  we  are  observed! — we  are  discov- 
ered !' 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round.  There  was  the  fat 
boy,  perfectly  motionless,  with  his  large  circular  eyes 
staring  into  the  arbour,  but  without  the  slightest  ex- 
pression on  his  face  that  the  most  expert  physiogno- 
mist could  have  referred  to  astonishment,  curiosity, 
or  any  other  known  passion  that  agitates  the  human 
breast.  Mr.  Tupman  gazed  on  the  fat  boy,  and  the 
fat  boy  stared  at  him;  and  the  longer  Mr.  Tupman 
observed  the  utter  vacancy  of  the  fat  boy's  counte- 
nance, the  more  convinced  he  became  that  he  either 
did  not  know,  or  did  not  understand,  anything  that 
had  been  going  forward.  Under  this  impression,  he 
said  with  great  firmness — 

'What  do  you  want  here,  sir?' 

'Supper  's  ready,  sir,'  was  the  prompt  reply. 

'Have  you  just  come  here,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Tup- 
man, with  a  piercing  look. 

'Just,'  replied  the  fat  boy. 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  him  very  hard  again;  but 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  131 

there  was  not  a  wink  in  his  eye,  or  a  curve  in  his  face. 

Mr.  Tupman  took  the  arm  of  the  spinster  aunt, 
and  walked  towards  the  house;  the  fat  boy  followed 
behind. 

'He  knows  nothing  of  what  has  happened,'  he 
whispered. 

'Nothing,'  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

There  was  a  sound  behind  them,  as  of  an  imper- 
fectly suppressed  chuckle.  Mr.  Tupman  turned 
sharply  round.  No;  it  could  not  have  been  the  fat 
boy ;  there  was  not  a  gleam  of  mirth,  or  anything  but 
feeding  in  his  whole  visage. 

'He  must  have  been  fast  asleep,'  whispered  Mr. 
Tupman. 

'I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,'  replied  the  spinster 
aunt. 

They  both  laughed  heartily. 

Mr.  Tupman  was  wrong.  The  fat  boy,  for  once, 
had  not  been  fast  asleep.  He  was  awake — wide 
awake — to  what  had  been  going  forward. 

The  supper  passed  off  without  any  attempt  at  a 
general  conversation.  The  old  lady  had  gone  to  bed ; 
Isabella  Wardle  devoted  herself  exclusively  to  Mr. 
Trundle;  the  spinster's  attentions  were  reserved  for 
Mr.  Tupman;  and  Emily's  thoughts  appeared  to  be 
engrossed  by  some  distant  object — possibly  they  were 
with  the  absent  Snodgrass. 

Eleven — twelve — one  o'clock  had  struck,  and  the 
gentlemen  had  not  arrived.  Consternation  sat  on 
every  face.  Could  they  have  been  waylaid  and 
robbed?  Should  they  send  men  and  lanterns  in  every 
direction  by  which  they  could  be  supposed  likely  to 
have  travelled  home?  or  should  they—  Hark!  there 
they  were.  What  could  have  made  them  so  late?  A 
strange  voice,  too!  To  whom  could  it  belong?  They 
rushed  into  the  kitchen  whither  the  truants  had  re- 


132  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

paired,  and  at  once  obtained  rather  more  than  a  glim- 
mering of  the  real  state  of  the  case. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his 
hat  cocked  completely  over  his  left  eye,  was  leaning 
against  the  dresser,  shaking  his  head  from  side  to 
side,  and  producing  a  constant  succession  of  the 
blandest  and  most  benevolent  smiles  without  being 
moved  thereunto  by  any  discernible  cause  or  pretence 
whatsoever;  old  Mr.  Wardle,  with  a  highly-inflamed 
countenance,  was  grasping  the  hand  of  a  strange 
gentleman  muttering  protestations  of  eternal  friend- 
ship; Mr.  Winkle,  supporting  himself  by  the  eight- 
day  clock,  was  feebly  invoking  destruction  upon  the 
head  of  any  member  of  the  family  who  should  sug- 
gest the  propriety  of  his  retiring  for  the  night;  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  had  sunk  into  a  chair,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  the  most  abject  and  hopeless  misery  that 
the  human  mind  can  imagine,  portrayed  in  every 
lineament  of  his  expressive  face. 

'Is  anything  the  matter?'  inquired  the  three  ladies. 

'Nothing  the  matter/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'We— we  're — all  right. — I  say,  Wardle,  we  're  all 
right,  an't  we?' 

'I  should  think  so,'  replied  the  jolly  host. — 'My 
dears,  here  's  my  friend,  Mr.  Jingle— Mr.  Pickwick's 
friend,  Mr.  Jingle,  come  'pon — little  visit.' 

'Is  anything  the  matter  with  Mr.  Snodgrass,  sir?' 
inquired  Emily,  with  great  anxiety. 

'Nothing  the  matter,  ma'am,'  replied  the  stranger. 
'Cricket  dinner — glorious  party — capital  songs — old 
port— claret— good— very  good— wine,  ma'am— 
wine.' 

'It  wasn't  the  wine,'  murmured  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in 
a  broken  voice.  'It  was  the  salmon/  (Somehow  or 
other,  it  never  is  the  wine,  in  these  cases. ) 

'Hadn't  they  better  go  to  bed,  ma'am?'  inquired 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  133 

Emma.  'Two  of  the  boys  will  carry  the  gentlemen 
upstairs.' 

'I  won't  go  to  bed,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  firmly. 

'No  living  boy  shall  carry  me,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
stoutly ; — and  he  went  on  smiling  as  before. 

'Hurrah!'  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  faintly. 

'Hurrah!'  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  dashing  it  on  the  floor,  and  insanely  casting  his 
spectacles  into  the  middle  of  the  kitchen. — At  this 
humorous  feat  he  laughed  outright. 

'Let 's — have — 'nother — bottle,'  cried  Mr.  Winkle, 
commencing  in  a  very  loud  key,  and  ending  in  a  v.  :y 
faint  one.  His  head  dropped  upon  his  breast;  and, 
muttering  his  invincible  determination  not  to  go  to 
his  bed,  and  a  sanguinary  regret  that  he  had  not  'done 
for  old  Tupman'  in  the  morning,  he  fell  fast  asleep; 
in  which  condition  he  was  borne  to  his  apartment  by 
two  young  giants  under  the  personal  superintendence 
of  the  fat  boy,  to  whose  protecting  care  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  shortly  afterwards  confided  his  own  person. 
Mr.  Pickwick  accepted  the  proffered  arm  of  Mr. 
Tupman  and  quietly  disappeared,  smiling  more  than 
ever;  and  Mr.  Wardle,  after  taking  as  affectionate 
a  leave  of  the  whole  family  as  if  he  were  ordered  for 
immediate  execution,  consigned  to  Mr.  Trundle  the 
honour  of  conveying  him  upstairs,  and  retired,  with 
a  very  futile  attempt  to  look  impressively  solemn  and 
dignified. 

'What  a  shocking  scene!'  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

'Dis — gusting!'  ejaculated  both  the  young  ladies. 

'Dreadful — dreadful!'  said  Jingle,  looking  very 
grave :  he  was  about  a  bottle  and  a  half  ahead  of  any 
of  his  companions.  'Horrid  spectacle — very !' 

'What  a  nice  man!'  whispered  the  spinster  aunt  to 
Mr.  Tupman. 

'Good-looking,  too!'  whispered  Emily  Wardle. 


134  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Oh,  decidedly,'  observed  the  spinster  aunt. 

Mr.  Tupman  thought  of  the  widow  at  Rochester8, 
and  his  mind  was  troubled.  The  succeeding  half- 
hour's  conversation  was  not  of  a  nature  to  calm  his 
perturbed  spirit.  The  new  visitor  was  very  talkative, 
arid  the  number  of  his  anecdotes  was  only  to  be  ex- 
ceeded by  the  extent  of  his  politeness.  Mr.  Tupman 
felt  that  as  Jingle's  popularity  increased,  he  (Tup- 
man) retired  further  into  the  shade.  His  laughter 
was  forced — his  merriment  feigned;  and  when  at  last 
he  laid  his  aching  temples  between  the  sheets,  he 
thought,  with  horrid  delight,  on  the  satisfaction  it 
would  afford  him  to  have  Jingle's  head  at  that  mo- 
ment between  the  feather  bed  and  the  mattress. 

The  indefatigable  stranger  rose  betimes  next 
morning,  and,  although  his  companions  remained  in 
bed  overpowered  with  the  dissipation  of  the  previous 
night,  exerted  himself  most  successfully  to  promote 
the  hilarity  of  the  breakfast-table.  So  successful 
were  his  efforts,  that  even  the  deaf  old  lady  insisted 
on  having  one  or  two  of  his  best  jokes  retailed  through 
the  trumpet;  and  even  she  condescended  to  observe 
to  the  spinster  aunt,  that  'he'  (meaning  Jingle)  'was 
an  impudent  young  fellow';  a  sentiment  in  which 
all  her  relations  then  and  there  present  thoroughly 
coincided. 

It  was  the  old  lady's  habit  on  the  fine  summer  morn- 
ings to  repair  to  the  arbour  in  which  Mr.  Tupman 
had  already  signalised  himself,  in  form  and  manner 
following:  first,  the  fat  boy  fetched  from  a  peg  be- 
hind the  old  lady's  bed-room  door,  a  close  black  satin 
bonnet,  a  warm  cotton  shawl,  and  a  thick  stick  with 
a  capacious  handle;  and  the  old  lady  having  put  on 
the  bonnet  and  shawl  at  her  leisure,  would  lean  one 
hand  on  the  stick  and  the  other  on  the  fat  boy's 
shoulder,  and  walk  leisurely  to  the  arbour,  where  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  135 

fat  boy  would  leave  her  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air  for 
the  space  of  half  an  hour;  at  the  expiration  of  which 
time  he  would  return  and  reconduct  her  to  the  house. 

The  old  lady  was  very  precise  and  very  particular; 
and  as  this  ceremony  had  been  observed  for  three 
successive  summers  without  the  slightest  deviation 
from  the  accustomed  form,  she  was  not  a  little  sur- 
prised on  this  particular  morning,  to  see  the  fat  boy, 
instead  of  leaving  the  arbour,  walk  a  few  paces  out 
of  it,  look  carefully  round  him  in  every  direction,  and 
return  towards  her  with  great  stealth  and  an  air  of 
profound  mystery. 

The  old  lady  was  timorous — most  old  ladies  are— 
and  her  first  impression  was  that  the  bloated  lad  was 
about  to  do  her  some  grievous  bodily  harm  with  the 
view  of  possessing  himself  of  her  loose  coin.  She 
would  have  cried  for  assistance,  but  age  and  infirm- 
ity had  long  ago  deprived  her  of  the  power  of  scream- 
ing; she,  therefore,  watched  his  motions  with  feelings 
of  intense  terror,  which  were  in  no  degree  diminished 
by  his  coming  close  up  to  her,  and  shouting  in  her  ear 
in  an  agitated,  and  as  it  seemed  to  her,  a  threatening 
tone — 

'Missus!' 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Jingle  was  walking 
in  the  garden  close  to  the  arbour  at  this  moment. 
He  too  heard  the  shout  of  'Missus,'  and  stopped  to 
hear  more.  There  were  three  reasons  for  his  doing 
so.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  idle  and  curious;  sec- 
ondly, he  was  by  no  means  scrupulous;  thirdly,  and 
lastly,  he  was  concealed  from  view  by  some  flowering 
shrubs.  So  there  he  stood,  and  there  he  listened. 

'Missus !'  shouted  the  fat  boy. 

'Well,  Joe,'  said  the  trembling  old  lady.  'I'm 
sure  I  have  been  a  good  mistress  to  you,  Joe.  You 
have  invariably  been  treated  very  kindly.  You  have 


136  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

never  had  too  much  to  do;  and  you  have  always  had 
enough  to  eat.' 

This  last  was  an  appeal  to  the  fat  boy's  most  sensi- 
tive feelings.  He  seemed  touched,  as  he  replied,  em- 
phatically— 

'I  knows  I  has.' 

'Then  what  can  you  want  to  do  now?'  said  the  old 
lady,  gaining  courage. 

'I  wants  to  make  your  flesh  creep,'  replied  the  boy. 

This  sounded  like  a  very  bloodthirsty  mode  of 
showing  one's  gratitude;  and  as  the  old  lady  did  not 
precisely  understand  the  process  by  which  such  a 
result  was  to  be  attained,  all  her  former  horrors  re- 
turned. 

'What  do  you  think  I  see  in  this  very  arbour  last 
night?'  inquired  the  boy. 

'Bless  us!  What?'  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  alarmed 
at  the  solemn  manner  of  the  corpulent  youth. 

'The  strange  gentleman — him  as  had  his  arm  hurt 
— a  kissin'  and  huggin' — 

'Who,  Joe?     None  of  the  servants,  I  hope.' 

'Worser  than  that,'  roared  the  fat  boy,  in  the  old 
lady's  ear. 

'Not  one  of  my  grand-da'aters  ?' 

'Worser  than  that.' 

'Worse  than  that,  Joe!'  said  the  old  lady,  who  had 
thought  this  the  extreme  limit  of  human  atrocity. 
'Who  was  it,  Joe?  I  insist  upon  knowing.' 

The  fat  boy  looked  cautiously  round,  and  having 
concluded  his  survey,  shouted  in  the  old  lady's  ear : 

'Miss  Rachael.' 

'What!'  said  the  old  lady,  in  a  shrill  tone.  'Speak 
louder.' 

'Miss  Rachael,'  roared  the  fat  boy. 

'My  da'ater!' 

The  train  of  nods  which  the  fat  boy  gave  by  way 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  137 

of  assent,  communicated  a  blanc-mange  like  motion 
to  his  fat  cheeks. 

'And  she  suffered  him!'  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 

A  grin  stole  over  the  fat  boy's  features  as  he  said: 

'I  see  her  a  kissin'  of  him  agin.' 

If  Mr.  Jingle,  from  his  place  of  concealment, 
could  have  heheld  the  expression  which  the  old  lady's 
face  assumed  at  this  communication,  the  probability 
is  that  a  sudden  burst  of  laughter  would  have  be- 
trayed his  close  vicinity  to  the  summer-house.  He 
listened  attentively/  Fragments  of  angry  sentences 
such  as,  'Without  my  permission!' — 'At  her  time  of 
life' — 'Miserable  old  'ooman  like  me' — 'Might  have 
waited  'till  I  was  dead,'  and  so  forth,  reached  his  ears; 
and  then  he  heard  the  heels  of  the  fat  boy's  boots 
crunching  the  gravel,  as  he  retired  and  left  the  old 
lady  alone. 

It  was  a  remarkable  coincidence  perhaps,  but  it  was 
nevertheless  a  fact,  that  Mr.  Jingle  within  five 
minutes  after  his  arrival  at  Manor  Farm  on  the  pre- 
ceding night,  had  inwardly  resolved  to  lay  siege  to 
the  heart  of  the  spinster  aunt,  without  delay.  He 
had  observation  enough  to  see,  that  his  off-hand  man- 
ner was  by  no  means  disagreeable  to  the  fair  object 
of  his  attack;  and  he  had  more  than  a  strong  suspi- 
cion that  she  possessed  that  most  desirable  of  all 
requisites,  a  small  independence.  The  imperative 
necessity  of  ousting  his  rival  by  some  means  or  other, 
flashed  quickly  upon  him,  and  he  immediately  re- 
solved to  adopt  certain  proceedings  tending  to  that 
end  and  object,  without  a  moment's  delay.  Fielding 
tells  us  that  man  is  fire,  and  woman  tow,  and  the 
Prince  of  Darkness  sets  a  light  to  'em.  Mr.  Jingle 
knew  that  young  men,  to  spinster  aunts,  are  as  lighted 
gas  to  gun-powder,  and  he  determined  to  essay  the 
effect  of  an  explosion  without  loss  of  time. 


138  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Full  of  reflections  upon  this  important  decision,  he 
crept  from  his  place  of  concealment,  and,  under  cover 
of  the  shrubs  before  mentioned,  approached  the  house. 
Fortune  seemed  determined  to  favour  his  design. 
Mr.  Tupman  and  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen  left  the 
garden  by  the  side  gate  just  as  he  obtained  a  view  of 
it;  and  the  young  ladies,  he  knew,  had  walked  out 
alone,  soon  after  breakfast.  The  coast  was  clear. 

The  breakfast-parlour  door  was  partially  open. 
He  peeped  in.  The  spinster  aunt  was  knitting. 
He  coughed;  she  looked  up  and  smiled.  Hesitation 
formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle's  character. 
He  laid  his  ringer  on  his  lips  mysteriously,  walked  in, 
and  closed  the  door. 

'Miss   Wardle,'    said   Mr.    Jingle,    with    affected 
earnestness,  'forgive  intrusion — short  acquaintance- 
no  time  for  ceremony — all  discovered.' 

'Sir!'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  rather  astonished  by 
the  unexpected  apparition,  and  somewhat  doubtful 
of  Mr.  Jingle's  sanity. 

'Hush!'  said  Mr.  Jingle,  in  a  stage  whisper; — 
'large  boy — dumpling  face — round  eyes — rascal!' 
Here  he  shook  his  head  expressively,  and  the  spinster 
aunt  trembled  with  agitation. 

'I  presume  you  allude  to  Joseph,  sir?'  said  the  lady, 
making  an  effort  to  appear  composed. 

'Yes,  ma'am — damn  that  Joe! — treacherous  dog, 
Joe— told  the  old   lady — old  lady   furious — wild- 
raving — arbour — Tupman — kissing  and  hugging— 
all  that  sort  of  thing — eh,  ma'am — eh?' 

'Mr.  Jingle,'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  'if  you  come 
here,  sir,  to  insult  me— 

'Not  at  all— by  no  means,'  replied  the  unabashed 
Mr.  Jingle; — 'overheard  the  tale — came  to  warn  you 
of  your  danger — tender  my  services — prevent  the 
hubbub.  Never  mind — think  it  an  insult— leave  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  139 

room' — and  he  turned,  as  if  to  carry  the  threat  into 
execution. 

'What  shall  I  do?'  said  the  poor  spinster,  bursting 
into  tears.  'My  brother  will  be  furious.' 

'Of  course  he  will,'  said  Mr.  Jingle,  pausing — 
'outrageous.' 

'Oh,  Mr.  Jingle,  what  can  I  say?'  exclaimed  the 
spinster  aunt,  in  another  flood  of  despair. 

'Say  he  dreamt  it,'  replied  Mr.  Jingle,  cooliy. 

A  ray  of  comfort  darted  across  the  mind  of  the 
spinster  aunt  at  this  suggestion.  Mr.  Jingle  per- 
ceived it,  and  followed  up  his  advantage. 

'Pooh,  pooh! — nothing  more  easy — blackguard 
boy — lovely  woman — fat  boy  horsewhipped — you 
believed — end  of  the  matter — all  comfortable.' 

Whether  the  probability  of  escaping  from  the  con- 
sequences of  this  ill-timed  discovery  was  delightful  to 
the  spinster's  feelings,  or  whether  the  hearing  her- 
self described  as  a  'lovely  woman'  softened  the 
asperity  of  her  grief,  we  know  not.  She  blushed 
slightly,  and  cast  a  grateful  look  on  Mr.  Jingle. 

That  insinuating  gentleman  sighed  deeply,  fixing 
his  eyes  on  the  spinster  aunt's  face  for  a  couple  of 
minutes,  started  melodramatically,  and  suddenly 
withdrew  them. 

'You  seem  unhappy,  Mr.  Jingle,'  said  the  lady,  in 
a  plaintive  voice.  'May  I  show  my  gratitude  for 
your  kind  interference,  by  inquiring  into  the  cause, 
with  a  view,  if  possible,  to  its  removal?' 

'Ha!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Jingle,  with  another  start- 
"removal!  remove  my  unhappiness,  and  your  love  be- 
stowed upon  a  man  who  is  insensible  to  the  blessing— 
who  even  now  contemplates  a  design  upon  the  affec- 
tions of  the  niece  of  the  creature  who — but  no;  he  is 
my  friend :  I  will  not  expose  his  vices.     Miss  Wardle 
—farewell!'     At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  the 


140  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

most  consecutive  he  was  ever  known  to  utter,  Mr. 
Jingle  applied  to  his  eyes  the  remnant  of  a  handker- 
chief before  noticed,  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

'Stay,  Mr.  Jingle!'  said  the  spinster  aunt  emphat- 
ically. 'You  have  made  an  allusion  to  Mr.  Tupman 
— explain  it.' 

'Never!'  exclaimed  Jingle,  with  a  professional  (i.e. 
theatrical)  air.  'Never!'  and,  by  way  of  showing  that 
he  had  no  desire  to  be  questioned  further,  he  drew  a 
chair  close  to  that  of  the  spinster  aunt  and  sat  down. 

'Mr.  Jingle,'  said  the  aunt,  'I  entreat — I  implore 
you,  if  there  is  any  dreadful  mystery  connected  with 
Mr.  Tupman,  reveal  it.' 

'Can  I,'  said.  Mr.  Jingle,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the 
aunt's  face — 'Can  I  see — lovely  creature — sacrificed 
at  the  shrine — heartless  avarice  1'  He  appeared  to 
be  struggling  with  various  conflicting  emotions  for 
a  few  seconds,  and  then  said  in  a  low  deep  voice — 

'Tupman  only  wants  your  money.' 

'The  wretch !'  exclaimed  the  spinster,  with  energetic 
indignation.  (Mr.  Jingle's  doubts  were  resolved. 
She  had  money.) 

'More  than  that,'  said  Jingle — 'loves  another.' 

'Another!'  ejaculated  the  spinster.     'Who?' 

'Short  girl — black  eyes — niece  Emily.' 

There  was  a  pause. 

Now,  if  there  were  one  individual  in  the  whole 
world,  of  whom  the  spinster  aunt  entertained  a  mortal 
and  deeply-rooted  jealousy,  it  was  this  identical  niece. 
The  colour  rushed  over  her  face  and  neck,  and  she 
tossed  her  head  in  silence  with  an  air  of  ineffable 
contempt.  At  last,  biting  her  thin  lips,  and  bridling 
up,  she  said — 

'It  can't  be.     I  won't  believe  it.' 


'Watch  'em,'  said  Jingle. 
'I  will,'  said  the  aunt. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  141 

'Watch  his  looks.' 

'I  will.' 

'His  whispers.' 

'I  will.' 

'He  '11  sit  next  her  at  table.' 

'Let  him.' 

'He  '11  flatter  her.' 

'Let  him.' 

'He  '11  pay  her  every  possible  attention.' 

'Let  him.' 

'And  he  '11  cut  you.' 

'Cut  me!'  screamed  the  spinster  aunt.  'He  cut  me; 
—will  he !'  and  she  trembled  with  rage  and  disappoint- 
ment. 

'You  will  convince  vourself  ?'  said  Jingle. 

'I  will.' 

'You  '11  show  your  spirit?' 

'I  will.' 

'You  '11  not  have  him  afterwards?' 

'Never.' 

'You  '11  take  somebody  else  ?' 

'Yes.' 

'You  shall.' 

Mr.  Jingle  fell  on  his  knees,  remained  thereupon 
for  five  minutes  thereafter:  and  rose  the  accepted 
lover  of  the  spinster  aunt:  conditionally  upon  Mr. 
Tupman's  perjury  being  made  clear  and  manifest. 

The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle; 
and  he  produced  his  evidence  that  very  day  at  dinner. 
The  spinster  aunt  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes.  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman  was  established  at  Emily's  side, 
ogling,  whispering,  and  smiling,  in  opposition  to  Mr. 
Snodgrass.  Xot  a  word,  not  a  look,  not  a  glance,  did 
he  bestow  upon  his  heart's  pride  of  the  evening  before. 

'Damn  that  boy!'  thought  old  Mr.  Wardle  to  him- 
self.— He  had  heard  the  storv  from  his  mother. 


142  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Damn  that  boy!     He  must  have  been  asleep.     It 's 
all  imagination.' 

'Traitor!'  thought  the  spinster  aunt.  Dear  Mr. 
Jingle  was  not  deceiving  me.  Ugh!  how  I  hate  the 

wretch!' 

The  following  conversation  may  serve  to  explain  to 
our  readers  this  apparently  unaccountable  alteration 
of  deportment  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

The   time    was   evening;    the    scene   the    garden. 
There  were  two  figures  walking  in  a  side  path;  one 
was  rather  short  and  stout;  the  other  rather  tall  and 
slim.     They   were   Mr.    Tupman   and   Mr.   Jingle. 
The  stout  figure  commenced  the  dialogue. 
'How  did  I  do  it?'  he  inquired. 
'Splendid — capital — couldn't  act  better  myself- 
you  must  repeat  the  part  to-morrow — every  evening, 
till  further  notice.' 

'Does  Rachael  still  wish  it?' 

'Of  course — she  don't  like  it — but  must  be  done— 
avert  suspicion — afraid  of  her  brother — says  there  's 
no  help  for  it — only  a  few  days  more — when  old  folks 
blinded — crown  your  happiness.' 
'Any  message  ?' 

'Love — best  love — kindest  regards — unalterable 
affection.  Can  I  say  anything  for  you?' 

'My  dear  fellow,'  replied  the  unsuspicious  Mr. 
Tupman,  fervently  grasping  his  'friend's'  hand — 
'carry  my  best  love — say  how  hard  I  find  it  to  dis- 
semble— say  anything  that 's  kind:  but  add  how  sen- 
sible I  am  of  the  necessity  of  the  suggestion  she 
made  to  me,  through  you,  this  morning.  Say  I 
applaud  her  wisdom  and  admire  her  discretion.' 
'I  will.  Anything  more?' 

'Nothing;  only  add  how  ardently  I  long  for  the 
time  when  I  may  call  her  mine,  and  all  dissimulation 
may  be  unnecessary.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  143 

'Certainly,  certainly.     Anything  more?' 

'Oh,  my  friend!'  said  poor  Mr.  Tupman,  again 
grasping  the  hand  of  his  companion,  'receive  my 
warmest  thanks  for  your  disinterested  kindness;  and 
forgive  me  if  I  have  ever,  even  in  thought,  done  you 
the  injustice  of  supposing  that  you  could  stand  in  my 
v.ay.  My  dear  friend,  can  I  ever  repay  you?' 

'Don't  talk  of  it,'  replied  Mr.  Jingle.  He  stopped 
short,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  something,  and  said 
— 'By  the  bye — can't  spare  ten  pounds,  can  you?— 
very  particular  purpose — pay  you  in  three  days.' 

'I  dare  say  I  can,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  heart.  'Three  days,  you  say?' 

'Only  three  days — all  over  then — no  more  difficul- 
ties.' 

Mr.  Tupman  counted  the  money  into  his  compan- 
ion's hand,  and  he  dropped  it  piece  by  piece  into  his 
pocket,  as  they  walked  towards  the  house. 

'Be  careful,'  said  Mr.  Jingle — 'not  a  look.' 

'Not  a  wink,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Not  a  syllable.' 

'Not  a  whisper.' 

'All  your  attentions  to  the  niece — rather  rude, 
than  otherwise,  to  the  aunt — only  way  of  deceiving  the 
old  ones.' 

'I  '11  take  care,'  said  Mr.  Tupman  aloud. 

'And  I  '11  take  care,'  said  Mr.  Jingle  internally ; 
and  they  entered  the  house. 

The  scene  of  that  afternoon  was  repeated  that 
evening,  and  on  the  three  afternoons  and  evenings 
next  ensuing.  On  the  fourth,  the  host  was  in  high 
spirits,  for  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no 
ground  for  the  charge  against  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was 
Mr.  Tupman,  for  Mr.  Jingle  had  told  him  that  his 
affair  would  soon  be  brought  to  a  crisis.  So  was  Mr. 
Pickwick,  for  he  was  seldom  otherwise.  So  was  not 


144  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  for  he  had  grown  jealous  of  Mr, 
Tupman.  So  was  the  old  lady,  for  she  had  been 
winning  at  whist.  So  were  Mr.  Jingle  and  Miss 
Wardle,  for  reasons  of  sufficient  importance  in  this 
eventful  history  to  be  narrated  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  DISCOVERY  AND   A   CHASE 

THE  supper  was  ready  laid,  the  chairs  were  drawn 
round  the  table,  bottles,  jugs,  and  glasses  were  ar- 
ranged upon  the  sideboard,  and  everything  betokened 
the  approach  of  the  most  convivial  period  in  the  whole 
four-and-twenty  hours. 

'Where  's  Rachael?'  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

'Ay,  and  Jingle  ?'  added  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Dear  me,'  said  the  host,  'I  wonder  I  haven't  missed 
him  before.  Why,  I  don't  think  I  Ve  heard  his  voice 
for  two  hours  at  least.  Emily,  my  dear,  ring  the  bell.' 

The  bell  was  rung,  and  the  fat  boy  appeared. 

'Where  's  Miss  Rachael  ?'     He  couldn't  say. 

'Where  's  Mr,  Jingle,  then?'     He  didn't  know. 

Everybody  looked  surprised.  It  was  late — past 
eleven  o'clock.  Mr.  Tupman  laughed  in  his  sleeve. 
They  were  loitering  somewhere,  talking  about  him. 
Ha,  ha !  capital  notion  that — funny. 

'Never  mind,'  said  Wardle,  after  a  short  pause, 
'they  '11  turn  up  presently,  I  dare  say.  I  never  wait 
supper  for  anybody.' 

'Excellent  rule,  that,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'admi- 
rable.' 

Tray  sit  down,'  said  the  host. 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  and  down  they  sat. 

There  was  a  gigantic  round  of  cold  beef  on 'the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  145 

table,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  supplied  with  a  plentiful 
portion  of  it.  He  had  raised  his  fork  to  his  lips,  and 
was  on  the  very  point  of  opening  his  mouth  for  the 
reception  of  a  piece  of  beef,  when  the  hum  of  many 
voices  suddenly  arose  in  the  kitchen.  He  paused,  and 
laid  down  his  fork.  Mr.  Wardle  paused  too,  and  in- 
sensibly released  his  hold  of  the  carving-knife,  which 
remained  inserted  in  the  beef.  He  looked  at  Mr. 
Pickwick.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked  at  him. 

Heavy  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  passage;  the 
parlour  door  was  suddenly  burst  open;  and  the  man 
who  had  cleaned  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  on  his  first 
arrival,  rushed  into  the  room,  followed  by  the  fat  boy, 
and  all  the  domestics. 

'What  the  devil 's  the  meaning  of  this  ?'  exclaimed 
the  host. 

'The  kitchen  chimney  ain't  a-fire,  is  it,  Emma?' 
inquired  the  old  lady. 

'Lor,  grandma!  No,'  screamed  both  the  young 
ladies. 

'What 's  the  matter?'  roared  the  master  of  the  house. 
The  man  gasped  for  breath,  and  faintly  ejaculated— 

'They  ha'  gone,  Mas'r!— gone  right  clean  off,  sir!' 
(At  this  juncture  Mr.  Tupman  was  observed  to  lay 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  to  turn  very  pale.) 

'Who  's  gone?'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  fiercely. 

'Mus'r  Jingle  and  Miss  Rachael,  in  a  po'-chay, 
from  Blue  Lion,  Muggleton.  I  was  there;  but  I 
couldn't  stop  'em;  so  I  run  off  to  tell  'ee.' 

'I  paid  his  expenses!'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  jumping 
up  frantically.  'He  's  got  ten  pounds  of  mine !— stop 
him!— he  's  swindled  me!— I  won't  bear  it!-  \  '11  have 
justice,  Pickwick!— I  won't  stand  it!'  and  with  sundry 
incoherent  exclamations  of  the  like  nature,  the  un- 
happy gentleman  spun  round  and  round  the  apart- 
ment, in  a  transport  of  frenzy. 


146  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Lord  preserve  us!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  eye- 
ing the  extraordinary  gestures  of  his  friend  with  terri- 
fied surprise.  'He  's  gone  mad!  What  shall  we  do!' 

'Do !'  said  the  stout  old  host,  who  regarded  only  the 
last  words  of  the  sentence.  Tut  the  horse  in  the  gig! 
I  '11  get  a  chaise  at  the  Lion,  and  follow  'em  instantly. 
Where' — he  exclaimed,  as  the  man  ran  out  to  execute 
the  commission — 'Where  's  that  villain,  Joe?' 

'Here  I  am;  but  I  han't  a  willin,'  replied  a  voice. 
It  was  the  fat  boy's. 

'Let  me  get  at  him,  Pickwick,'  cried  Wardle,  as 
he  rushed  at  the  ill-starred  youth.  'He  was  bribed 
by  that  scoundrel,  Jingle,  to  put  me  on  a  wrong  scent, 
by  telling  a  cock-and-a-bull  story  of  my  sister  and 
your  friend  Tupman!'  (Here  Mr.  Tupman  sunk 
into  a  chair. )  'Let  me  get  at  him !' 

'Don't  let  him!'  screamed  all  the  women,  above 
whose  exclamations  the  blubbering  of  the  fat  boy  was 
distinctly  audible. 

'I  won't  be  held!'  cried  the  old  man.  'Mr.  Winkle, 
take  your  hands  off.  Mr.  Pickwick,  let  me  go,  sir !' 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  in  that  moment  of  turmoil 
and  confusion,  to  behold  the  placid  and  philosophical 
expression  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  face,  albeit  somewhat 
flushed  with  exertion,  as  he  stood  with  his  arms  firmly 
clasped  round  the  extensive  waist  of  their  corpulent 
host,  thus  restraining  the  impetuosity  of  his  passion, 
while  the  fat  boy  was  scratched,  and  pulled,  and 
pushed  from  the  room  by  all  the  females  congregated 
therein.  He  had  no  sooner  released  his  hold,  than  the 
man  entered  to  announce  that  the  gig  was  ready. 

'Don't  let  him  go  alone!'  screamed  the  females. 
'He '11  kill  somebody!' 

'I  '11  go  with  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'You  're  a  good  fellow,  Pickwick,'  said  the  host, 
grasping  his  hand.  'Emma,  give  Mr.  Pickwick  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  147 

shawl  to  tie  round  his  neck — make  haste.  Look  after 
your  grandmother,  girls ;  she  has  fainted  away.  Now 
then,  are  you  ready  ?' 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth  and  chin  having  been  hastily 
enveloped  in  a  large  shawl:  his  hat  having  been  put 
on  his  head,  and  his  great-coat  thrown  over  his  arm, 
he  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

They  jumped  into  the  gig.  'Give  her  her  head, 
Tom,'  cried  the  host;  and  away  they  wrent,  down  the 
narrow  lanes:  jolting  in  and  out  of  the  cart-ruts,  and 
bumping  up  against  the  hedges  on  either  side,  as  if 
they  would  go  to  pieces  every  moment. 

'How  much  are  they  a-head?'  shouted  Wardle,  as 
they  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  Blue  Lion,  round 
which  a  little  crowd  had  collected,  late  as  it  was. 

'Not  above  three-quarters  of  an  hour,'  was  every- 
body's reply. 

'Chaise  and  four  directly! — out  with  'em!  Put  up 
the  gig  afterwards.' 

'Now,  boys!'  cried  the  landlord — 'chaise  and  four 
out — make  haste — look  alive  there!' 

Away  ran  the  hostlers,  and  the  boys.  The  lanterns 
glimmered,  as  the  men  ran  to  and  fro;  the  horses' 
hoofs  clattered  on  the  uneven  paving  of  the  yard; 
the  chaise  rumbled  as  it  was  drawn  out  of  the  coach- 
house;  and  all  was  noise  and  bustle. 

'Now  then! — is  that  chaise  coming  out  to-night?' 
cried  Wardle. 

'Coming  down  the  yard  now,  sir,'  replied  the 
hostler. 

Out  came  the  chaise— in  went  the  horses— on  sprung 
the  boys — in  got  the  travellers. 

'Mind — the  seven-mile  stage  in  less  than  half  an 
hour,'  shouted  Wardle. 

'Off  with  you!' 

The    boys    applied    whip    and    spur,    the    waiters 


148  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

shouted,  the  hostlers  cheered,  and  away  they  went, 
fast  and  furiously. 

'Pretty  situation/  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he 
had  had  a  moment's  time  for  reflection.  'Pretty  situ- 
ation for  the  General  Chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club. 
Damp  chaise — strange  horses — fifteen  miles  an  hour 
— and  twelve  o'clock  at  night !' 

For  the  first  three  or  four  miles,  not  a  word  was 
spoken  hy  either  of  the  gentlemen,  each  being  too 
much  immersed  in  his  own  reflections  to  address  any 
observations  to  his  companion.  When  they  had  gone 
over  that  much  ground,  however,  and  the  horses  get- 
ting thoroughly  warmed  began  to  do  their  work  in 
really  good  style,  Mr.  Pickwick  became  too  much 
exhilarated  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion,  to  remain 
any  longer  perfectly  mute. 

'We  're  sure  to  catch  them,  I  think,'  said  he. 

'Hope  so,'  replied  his  companion. 

Tine  night,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up  at  the 
moon,  which  was  shining  brightly. 

'So  much  the  worse,-  returned  War  die;  'for  they  '11 
have  had  all  the  advantage  of  the  moonlight  to  get  the 
start  of  us,  and  we  shall  lose  it.  It  will  have  gone 
down  in  another  hour.' 

'It  will  be  rather  unpleasant  going  at  this  rate  in 
the  dark,  won't  it?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  dare  say  it  will,'  replied  his  friend  drily. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  temporary  excitement  began  to 
sober  down  a  little,  as  he  reflected  upon  the  incon- 
veniences and  dangers  of  the  expedition  in  which  he 
had  so  thoughtlessly  embarked.  He  was  roused  by 
a  loud  shouting  of  the  post-boy  on  the  leader. 

|Yo— yo— yo— yo— yoe,'  went  the  first  boy. 

^Yo— yo— yo — yoe!'  went  the  second. 

'Yo— yo— yo— yoe!'  chimed  in  old  Wardle  himself, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  U9 

most  lustily,  with  his  head  and  half  his  body  out  of 
the  coach  window. 

'Yo — yo — yo — yoe!'  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking 
up  the  burden  of  the  cry,  though  he  had  not  the 
slightest  notion  of  its  meaning  or  object.  And  amidst 
the  yo — yoing  of  the  whole  four,  the  chaise  stopped. 

'What 's  the  matter  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'There  's  a  gate  here,'  replied  old  Wardle.  'We 
shall  hear  something  of  the  fugitives.' 

After  a  lapse  of  five  minutes  consumed  in  incessant 
knocking  and  shouting,  an  old  man  in  his  shirt  and 
trousers  emerged  from  the  turnpike  house,  and  opened 
the  gate. 

'How  long  is  it  since  a  post-chaise  went  through 
here?'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle. 

'How  long?' 

'Ah!' 

'Why,  I  don't  rightly  know.  It  worn't  a  long  time 
ago,  nor  it  worn't  a  short  time  ago — just  between  the 
two,  perhaps.' 

'Has  any  chaise  been  by  at  all?' 

'Oh  yes,  there  's  been  a  shay  by/ 

'How  long  ago,  my  friend,'  interposed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'an  hour?' 

'Ah,  I  dare  say  it  might  be,'  replied  the  man. 

'Or  two  hours?'  inquired  the  post-boy  on  the  wheeler. 

'Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was,'  returned  the 
old  man  doubtfully. 

'Drive  on,  boys/  cried  the  testy  old  gentleman; 
'don't  waste  any  more  time  with  that  old  idiot !' 

'Idiot!'  exclaimed  the  old  man  with  a  grin,  as  he 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road  with  the  gate  half 
closed,  watching  the  chaise  which  rapidly  diminished 
in  the  increasing  distance.  'Xb— not  much  o'  that 
either;  you  've  lost  ten  minutes  here,  and  gone  away 


150  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

as  wise  as  you  came,  arter  all.  If  every  man  on  the 
line  as  has  a  guinea  give  him,  earns  it  half  as  well, 
you  won't  catch  t'  other  shay  this  side  Mich'lmas,  old 
short-and-fat.'  And  with  another  prolonged  grin, 
the  old  man  closed  the  gate,  re-entered  his  house,  and 
bolted  the  door  after  him. 

Meanwhile  the  chaise  proceeded,  without  any 
slackening  of  pace,  towards  the  conclusion  of  the 
stage.  The  moon,  as  Wardle  had  foretold,  was  rap- 
idly on  the  wane;  large  tiers  of  dark  heavy  clouds, 
which  had  been  gradually  overspreading  the  sky  for 
some  time  past,  now  formed  one  black  mass  overhead ; 
and  large  drops  of  rain  which  pattered  every  now  and 
then  against  the  windows  of  the  chaise,  seemed  to 
warn  the  travellers  of  the  rapid  approach  of  a  stormy 
night.  The  wind,  too,  which  was  directly  against 
them,  swept  in  furious  gusts  down  the  narrow  road, 
and  howled  dismally  through  the  trees  which  skirted 
the  pathway.  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  his  coat  closer 
about  him,  coiled  himself  more  snugly  up  into  the 
corner  of  the  chaise,  and  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  from 
which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  stopping  of  the 
vehicle,  the  sound  of  the  hostler's  bell,  and  a  loud  cry 
of  'Horses  on  directly!' 

But  here  another  delay  occurred.  The  boys  were 
sleeping  with. such  mysterious  soundness,  that  it  took 
five  minutes  a-piece  to  wake  them.  The  hostler  had 
somehow  or  other  mislaid  the  key  of  the  stable,  and 
even  when  that  was  found,  two  sleepy  helpers  put 
the  wrong  harness  on  the  wrong  horses,  and  the  whole 
process  of  harnessing  had  to  be  gone  through  afresh. 
Had  Mr.  Pickwick  been  alone,  these  multiplied  ob- 
stacles would  have  completely  put  an  end  to  the  pur- 
suit at  once,  but  old  Wardle  was  not  to  be  so  easily 
daunted;  and  he  laid  about  him  with  such  hearty  good- 
will, cuffing  this  man,  and  pushing  that;  strapping  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  151 

buckle  here,  and  taking  in  a  link  there,  that  the  chaise 
was  ready  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  could  reason- 
ably have  been  expected,  under  so  many  difficulties. 

They  resumed  their  journey;  and  certainly  the  pros- 
pect before  them  was  by  no  means  encouraging.  The 
stage  was  fifteen  miles  long,  the  night  was  dark,  the 
wind  high,  and  the  rain  pouring  in  torrents.  It  was 
impossible  to  make  any  great  way  against  such  ob- 
stacles united:  it  was  hard  upon  one  o'clock  already; 
and  nearly  two  hours  were  consumed  in  getting  to 
the  end  of  the  stage.  Here,  however,  an  object  pre- 
sented itself,  which  rekindled  their  hopes,  and  re-ani- 
mated their  drooping  spirits. 

'When  did  this  chaise  come  in?'  cried  old  Wardle, 
leaping  out  of  his  own  vehicle,  and  pointing  to  one 
covered  with  wet  mud,  which  was  standing  in  the 
yard. 

'Not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  sir';  replied  the 
hostler,  to  whom  the  question  was  addressed. 

'Lady  and  gentleman?'  inquired  Wardle,  almost 
breathless  with  impatience. 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'Tall  gentleman — dress  coat — long  legs — thin 
body?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'Elderly  lady — thin  face — rather  skinny — eh?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'By  heavens,  it 's  the  couple,  Pickwick,'  exclaimed 
the  old  gentleman. 

'Would  have  been  here  before,'  said  the  hostler,  'but 
they  broke  a  trace.' 

'It  is!'  said  Wardle,  'it  is,  by  Jove!  Chaise  and 
four  instantly !  We  shall  catch  them  yet,  before  they 
reach  the  next  stage.  A  guinea  a-piece,  boys — be 
alive  there — bustle  about — there  's  good  fellows.' 

And  with  such  admonitions  as  these,  the  old  gentle- 


152  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

man  ran  up  and  down  the  yard,  and  bustled  to  and 
fro,  in  a  state  of  excitement  which  communicated 
itself  to  Mr.  Pickwick  also;  and  under  the  influence 
of  which,  that  gentleman  got  himself  into  complicated 
entanglements  with  harness,  and  mixed  up  with  horses 
and  wheels  of  chaises,  in  the  most  surprising  manner, 
firmly  believing  that  by  so  doing  he  was  materially 
forwarding  the  preparations  for  their  resuming  their 
journey. 

'Jump  in — jump  in!'  cried  old  Wardle,  climbing 
into  the  chaise,  pulling  up  the  steps,  and  slamming 
the  door  after  him.  'Come  along!  Make  haste!' 
And  before  Mr.  Pickwick  knew  precisely  what  he  was 
about,  he  felt  himself  forced  in  at  the  other  door,  by 
one  pull  from  the  old  gentleman,  and  one  push  from 
the  hostler ;  and  off  they  were  again. 

'Ah!  we  are  moving  now,'  said  the  old  gentleman 
exultingly.  They  were  indeed,  as  was  sufficiently 
testified  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  his  constant  collisions 
either  with  the  hard  wood-work  of  the  chaise,  or  the 
body  of  his  companion. 

'Hold  up!'  said  the  stout  old  Mr.  Wardle,  as  Mr, 
Pickwick  dived  head  foremost  into  his  capacious  waist- 
coat. 

'I  never  did  feel  such  a  jolting  in  my  life,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Xever  mind,'  replied  his  companion,  'it  will  soon 
be  over.  Steady,  steady.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  planted  himself  into  his  own  corner, 
as  firmly  as  he  could ;  and  on  whirled  the  chaise  faster 
than  ever. 

They  travelled  in  this  way  about  three  miles,  when 
Mr.  Wardle,  who  had  been  looking  out  of  the  window 
for  two  or  three  minutes,  suddenly  drew  in  his  face, 
covered  with  splashes,  and  exclaimed  in  breathless 
eagerness — 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  153 

'Here  they  are!' 

Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window. 
Yes:  there  was  a  chaise  and  four,  a  short  distance 
before  them,  dashing  along  at  full  gallop. 

'Go  on,  go  on,'  almost  shrieked  the  old  gentleman. 
'Two  guineas  a-piece,  boys — don't  let  'em  gain  on 
us — keep  it  up— keep  it  up.5 

The  horses  in  the  first  chaise  started  on  at  their  ut- 
most speed ;  and  those  in  Mr.  Wardle's  galloped  furi- 
ously behind  them. 

'I  see  his  head,'  exclaimed  the  choleric  old  man, 
'Damme,  I  see  his  head.' 

'So  do  I,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that 's  he.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  mistaken.  The  countenance 
of  Mr.  Jingle,  completely  coated  with  the  mud  thrown 
up  by  the  wheels,  was  plainly  discernible  at  the  win- 
dow of  his  chaise;  and  the  motion  of  his  arm,  which 
he  was  waving  violently  towards  the  postilions,  de- 
noted that  he  was  encouraging  them  to  increased 
exertion. 

The  interest  was  intense.  Fields,  trees,  and  hedges, 
seemed  to  rush  past  them  with  the  velocity  of  a  whirl- 
wind, so  rapid  was  the  pace  at  which  they  tore  along. 
They  were  close  by  the  side  of  the  first  chaise. 
Jingle's  voice  could  be  plainly  heard,  even  above  the 
din  of  the  wheels,  urging  on  the  boys.  Old  Mr. 
Wardle  foamed  with  rage  and  excitement.  He 
roared  out  scoundrels  and  villains  by  the  dozen, 
clenched  his  fist  and  shook  it  expressively  at  the  object 
of  his  indignation;  but  Mr.  Jingle  only  answered 
with  a  contemptuous  smile,  and  replied  to  his  menaces 
by  a  shout  of  triumph,  as  his  horses,  answering  the 
increased  application  of  whip  and  spur,  broke  into 
a  faster  gallop,  and  left  the  pursuers  behind. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  just  drawn  in  his  head,  and  Mr. 
Wardle,  exhausted  with  shouting,  had  done  the  same, 


154  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

when  a  tremendous  jolt  threw  them  forward  against 
the  front  of  the  vehicle.  There  was  a  sudden  bump 
— a  loud  crash — away  rolled  a  wheel,  and  over  went 
the  chaise. 

After  a  very  few  seconds  of  bewilderment  and  con- 
fusion, in  which  nothing  but  the  plunging  of  horses, 
and  breaking  of  glass,  could  be  made  out,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick felt  himself  violently  pulled  out  from  among 
the  ruins  of  the  chaise ;  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained 
his  feet,  and  extricated  his  head  from  the  skirts  of 
his  great-coat,  which  materially  impeded  the  useful- 
ness of  his  spectacles,  the  full  disaster  of  the  case  met 
his  view. 

Old  Mr.  Wardle  without  hat,  and  his  clothes  torn 
in  several  places,  stood  by  his  side,  and  the  fragments 
of  the  chaise  lay  scattered  at  their  feet.  The  post- 
boys, who  had  succeeded  in  cutting  the  traces,  were 
standing,  disfigured  with  mud  and  disordered  by  hard 
riding,  by  the  horses'  heads.  About  a  hundred  yards 
in  advance  was  the  other  chaise,  which  had  pulled  up 
on  hearing  the  crash.  The  postilions,  each  with  a 
broad  grin  convulsing  his  countenance,  were  viewing 
the  adverse  party  from  their  saddles,  and  Mr.  Jingle 
was  contemplating  the  wreck  from  the  coach -window, 
with  evident  satisfaction.  The  day  was  just  break- 
ing, and  the  whole  scene  was  rendered  perfectly 
visible  by  the  grey  light  of  the  morning. 

'Hallo  1'  shouted  the   shameless  Jingle,   'anybody 
damaged? — elderly   gentlemen — no  light  weights- 
dangerous  work — very.' 

'You  're  a  rascal!'  roared  Wardle. 

'Ha!  ha!'  replied  Jingle;  and  then  he  added,  with 
a  knowing  wink,  and  a  jerk  of  the  thumb  towards 
the  interior  of  the  chaise — 'I  say — she  's  very  well- 
desires   her   compliments — begs   you   won't   trouble 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  155 

yourself — love  to  Tuppy — won't  you  get  up  behind? 
drive  on,  boys.' 

The  postilions  resumed  their  proper  attitudes,  and 
away  rattled  the  chaise,  Mr.  Jingle  fluttering  in  de- 
rision a  white  handkerchief  from  the  coach-window. 

Nothing  in  the  whole  adventure,  not  even  the  upset, 
had  disturbed  the  calm  and  equable  current  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  temper.  The  villainy,  however,  which 
could  first  borrow  money  of  his  faithful  follower, 
and  then  abbreviate  his  name  to  'Tuppy,'  was  more 
than  he  could  patiently  bear.  He  drew  his  breath 
hard,  and  coloured  up  to  the  very  tips  of  his  spec- 
tacles, as  he  said,  slowly  and  emphatically— 

'If  ever  I  meet  that  man  again,  I  '11— 

'Yes,  yes,'  interrupted  Wardle,  'that 's  all  very 
well :  but  while  we  stand  talking  here,  they  '11  get 
their  licence,  and  be  married  in  London.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  bottled  up  his  vengeance, 
and  corked  it  down. 

'How  far  is  it  to  the  next  stage?'  inquired  Mr. 
Wardle,  of  one  of  the  boys. 

'Six  mile,  an't  it,  Tom?' 

'Rayther  better.' 

'Rayther  better  nor  six  mile,  sir.' 

'Can't  be  helped,'  said  Wardle,  'we  must  walk  it, 
Pickwick.' 

'No  help  for  it,'  replied  that  truly  great  man. 

So  sending  forward  one  of  the  boys  on  horseback, 
to  procure  a  fresh  chaise  and  horses,  and  leaving  the 
other  behind  to  take  care  of  the  broken  one,  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Wardle  set  manfully  forward  on 
the  walk,  first  tying  their  shawls  round  their  necks, 
and  slouching  down  their  hats  to  escape  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  deluge  of  rain,  which  after  a  slight 
cessation  had  again  begun  to  pour  heavily  down. 


156  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  X 

CLEARING  UP  ALL  DOUBTS    (iF  ANY  EXISTED)    OF  THE 
DISINTERESTEDNESS  OF  MR.  JINGLE'S  CHARACTER 

THERE  are  in  London  several  old  inns,  once  the  head- 
quarters of  celebrated  coaches  in  the  days  when 
coaches  performed  their  journeys  in  a  graver  and 
more  solemn  manner  than  they  do  in  these  times ;  but 
which  have  now  degenerated  into  little  more  than  the 
abiding  and  booking  places  of  country  waggons. 
The  reader  would  look  in  vain  for  any  of  these 
ancient  hostelries,  among  the  Golden  Crosses  and 
Bull  and  Mouths,  which  rear  their  stately  fronts  in 
the  improved  streets  of  London.  If  he  would  light 
upon  any  of  these  old  places,  he  must  direct  his  steps 
to  the  obscurer  quarters  of  the  town;  and  there  in 
some  secluded  nooks  he  will  find  several,  still  stand- 
ing with  a  kind  of  gloomy  sturdiness,  amidst  the 
modern  innovations  which  surround  them. 

In  the  Borough  especially,  there  still  remain  some 
half-dozen  old  inns,  which  have  preserved  their  ex- 
ternal features  unchanged,  and  which  have  escaped 
alike  the  rage  for  public  improvement,  and  the  en- 
croachments of  private  speculation.  Great,  rambling, 
queer,  old  places  they  are,  with  galleries,  and  passages, 
and  staircases,  wide  enough  and  antiquated  enough 
to  furnish  materials  for  a  hundred  ghost  stories,  sup- 
posing we  should  ever  be  reduced  to  the  lamentable 
necessity  of  inventing  any,  and  that  the  world  should 
exist  long  enough  to  exhaust  the  innumerable  vera- 
cious legends  connected  with  old  London  Bridge,  and 
its  adjacent  neighbourhood  on  the  Surrey  side. 

It  was  in  the  yard  of  one  of  these  inns — of  no  less 
celebrated  a  one  than  the  White  Hart — that  a  man 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  157 

was  busily  employed  in  brushing  the  dirt  off  a  pair  of 
boots,  early  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  events 
narrated  in  the  last  chapter.  He  was  habited  in  a 
coarse-striped  waistcoat,  with  black  calico  sleeves,  and 
blue  glass  buttons;  drab  breeches  and  leggings.  A 
bright  red  handkerchief  was  wound  in  a  very  loose 
and  unstudied  style  round  his  neck,  and  an  old  white 
hat  was  carelessly  thrown  on  one  side  of  his  head. 
There  were  two  rows  of  boots  before  him,  one  cleaned 
and  the  other  dirty,  and  at  every  addition  he  made  to 
the  clean  row,  he  paused  from  his  work,  and  contem- 
plated its  results  with  evident  satisfaction. 

The  yard  presented  none  of  that  bustle  and  ac- 
tivity which  are  the  usual  characteristics  of  a  large 
coach  inn.  Three  or  four  lumbering  waggons,  each 
with  a  pile  of  goods  beneath  its  ample  canopy,  about 
the  height  of  the  second-floor  window  of  an  ordinary 
house,  were  stowed  away  beneath  a  lofty  roof  which 
extended  over  one  end  of  the  yard ;  and  another,  which 
was  probably  to  commence  its  journey  that  morning, 
was  drawn  out  into  the  open  space.  A  double  tier 
of  bed-room  galleries,  with  old  clumsy  balustrades, 
ran  round  two  sides  of  the  straggling  area,  and  a 
double  row  of  bells  to  correspond,  sheltered  from  the 
weather  by  a  little  sloping  roof,  hung  over  the  door 
leading  to  the  bar  and  coffee-room.  Two  or  three 
gigs  and  chaise-carts  were  wheeled  up  under  different 
little  sheds  and  pent -houses;  and  the  occasional  heavy 
tread  of  a  cart-horse  or  rattling  of  a  chain  at  the 
further  end  of  the  yard,  announced  to  anybody  who 
cared  about  the  matter,  that  the  stable  lay  in  that  di- 
rection. When  we  add  that  a  few  boys  in  smock 
frocks  were  lying  asleep  on  heavy  packages,  wool- 
packs,  and  other  articles  that  were  scattered  about  on 
heaps  of  straw,  we  have  described  as  fully  as  need  be 
the  general  appearance  of  the  yard  of  the  White  Hart 


158  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Inn,  High  Street,  Borough,  on  the  particular  morn- 
ing in  question. 

A  loud  ringing  of  one  of  the  bells,  was  followed 
by  the  appearance  of  a  smart  chambermaid  in  the 
upper  sleeping  gallery,  who,  after  tapping  at  one  of 
the  doors,  and  receiving  a  request  from  within,  called 
over  the  balustrades— 

'Sam!' 

'Hallo,'  replied  the  man  with  the  white  hat. 

'Number  twenty -two  wants  his  boots.' 

'Ask  number  twenty-two,  whether  he  '11  have  'em 
now,  or  wait  till  he  gets  'em,'  was  the  reply. 

'Come,  don't  be  a  fool,  Sam,'  said  the  girl,  coax- 
ingly,  'the  gentleman  wants  his  boots  directly.' 

'Well,  you  are  a  nice  young  'ooman  for  a  musical 
party,  you  are,'  said  the  boot-cleaner.  'Look  at  these 
here  boots — eleven  pair  o'  boots;  and  one  shoe  as 
b'longs  to  number  six,  with  the  wooden  leg.  The 
eleven  boots  is  to  be  called  at  half -past  eight  and  the 
shoe  at  nine.  Who  's  number  twenty-two,  that 's  to 
put  all  the  others  out?  No,  no;  reg'lar  rotation,  as 
Jack  Ketch  said,  wen  he  tied  the  rmn  up.  Sorry 
to  keep  you  a  waitin',  sir,  but  I  '11  attend  to  you  di- 
rectly/ 

Saying  which,  the  man  in  the  white  hat  set  to  work 
upon  a  top-boot  with  increased  assiduity. 

There  was  another  loud  ring;  and  the  bustling  old 
landlady  of  the  White  Hart  made  her  appearance  in 
the  opposite  gallery. 

'Sam,'  cried  the  landlady,  'where  's  that  lazy,  idle- 
why,  Sam — oh,  there  you  are;  why  don't  you  answer?' 

'Wouldn't  be  gen-teel  to  answer,  'till  you  'd  done 
talking,'  replied  Sam,  gruffly. 

'Here,  clean  them  shoes  for  number  seventeen  di- 
rectly, and  take  'em  to  private  sitting-room,  number 
five,  first  floor.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  159 

The  landlady  flung  a  pair  of  lady's  shoes  into  the 
yard,  and  bustled  away. 

'Number  5,'  said  Sam,  as  he  picked  up  the  shoes, 
and  taking  a  piece  of  chalk  from  his  pocket,  made  a 

memorandum    of    their    destination    on    the    soles 

'Lady's  shoes  and  private  sittin'  room!     I  suppose 
she  didn't  come  in  the  waggin.' 

'She  came  in  early  this  morning,'  cried  the  girl, 
who  was  still  leaning  over  the  railing  of  the  gallery, 
'with  a  gentleman  in  a  hackney-coach,  and  it 's  him 
as  wants  his  boots,  and  you  'd  better  do  'em,  that 's 
all  about  it.' 

'Vy  didn't  you  say  so  before,'  said  Sam,  with  great 
indignation,  singling  out  the  boots  in  question  from 
the  heap  before  him.  'For  all  I  know'd  he  vas  one  o' 
the  regular  three-pennies.  Private  room !  and  a  lady 
too!  If  he  's  anything  of  a  gen'l'm'n,  he  's  vorth  a 
shillin'  a  day,  let  alone  the  arrands.' 

Stimulated  by  this  inspiring  reflection,  Mr.  Samuel 
brushed  away  with  such  hearty  good-will,  that  in  a 
few  minutes  the  boots  and  shoes,  with  a  polish  which 
would  have  struck  envy  to  the  soul  of  the  amiable 
Mr.  Warren  (for  they  used  Day  and  Martin  at  the 
White  Hart) ,  had  arrived  at  the  door  of  number  five. 

'Come  in,'  said  a  man's  voice,  in  reply  to  Sam's  rap 
at  the  door. 

Sam  made  his  best  bow,  and  stepped  into  the  pres- 
ence of  a  lady  and  gentleman  seated  at  breakfast, 
Having  officiously  deposited  the  gentleman's  boots 
right  and  left  at  his  feet,  and  the  lady's  shoes  right 
and  left  at  hers,  he  backed  towards  the  door. 

'Boots,'  said  the  gentleman. 

'Sir,'  said  Sam,  closing  the  door,  and  keeping  his 
hand  on  the  knob  of  the  lock. 

'Do  you  know — what  's-a-name — Doctors'  Com- 
mons ?' 


160  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'Where  is  it?' 

'Paul's  Church-yard,  sir;  low  archway  on  the  car- 
riage-side, bookseller's  at  one  corner,  hot-el  on  the 
other,  and  two  porters  in  the  middle  as  touts  for 
licences.' 

'Touts  for  licences!'  said  the  gentleman. 

'Touts  for  licences,'  replied  Sam.  'Two  coves  in 
vhite  aprons — touches  their  hats  wen  you  walk  in — 
"Licence,  sir,  licence?"  Queer  sort,  them,  and  their 
mas'rs  too,  sir — Old  Bailey  Proctors — and  no  mis- 
take.' 

'What  do  they  do?'  inquired  the  gentleman. 

'Do !  You,  sir !  That  an't  the  wost  on  it,  neither. 
They  puts  things  into  old  gen'l'm'n's  heads  as  they 
never  dreamed  of.  My  father,  sir,  wos  a  coachman. 
A  widower  he  wos,  and  fat  enough  for  anything — • 
uncommon  fat,  to  he  sure.  His  missus  dies,  and 
leaves  him  four  hundred  pound.  Down  he  goes  to 
the  Commons,  to  see  the  lawyer  and  draw  the  blunt — • 
wery  smart — top  boots  on — nosegay  in  his  button- 
hole— broad-brimmed  tile — green  sha\fl — quite  the 
gen'l'm'n.  Goes  through  the  archvay,  thinking  how 
he  should  inwest  the  money — up  comes  the  touter, 
touches  his  hat — "Licence,  sir,  licence?"-  "What 's 
that?"  says  my  father. — "Licence,  sir,"  says  he. 

"What  licence?"  says  my  father. — "Marriage 
licence,"  says  the  touter. — "Dash  my  veskit,"  says  my 
father,  "I  never  thought  o'  that." — "I  think  you 
wants  one,  sir,"  says  the  touter.  My  father  pulls  up 
and  thinks  a  bit — "No,"  says  he,  "damme,  I  'm  too 
old,  b'sides  I  'm  a  many  sizes  too  large,"  says  he.— 
"Not  a  bit  on  it,  sir,"  says  the  touter.— "Think  not?" 
says  my  father. — "I  'm  sure  not,"  says  he;  "we  mar- 
ried a  gen'l'm'n  twice  your  size,  last  Monday." — 
"Did  you,  though?"  said  my  father. — "To  be  sure, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          161 

we  did,"  says  the  touter,  "you  're  a  babby  to  him— 
this  way,  sir — this  way!" — and  sure  enough  my 
father  walks  arter  him,  like  a  tame  monkey  behind  a 
horgan,  into  a  little  back  office,  vere  a  feller  sat  among 
dirty  papers  and  tin  boxes,  making  believe  he  was 
busy.  "Pray  take  a  seat,  vile  I  makes  out  the  affi- 
davit, sir,"  says  the  lawyer. — "Thank 'ee,  sir,"  says 
my  father,  and  down  he  sat,  and  stared  with  all  his 
eyes,  and  his  mouth  vide  open,  at  the  names  on  the 
boxes.  "What 's  your  name,  sir?"  says  the  lawyer. 

"Tony  Weller,"  says  my  father.— "Parish  ?"  says 
the  lawyer. — "Belle  Savage,"  says  my  father;  for  he 
stopped  there  wen  he  drove  up,  and  he  know'd  noth- 
ing about  parishes,  he  didn't. — "And  what's  the 
lady's  name?"  says  the  lawyer.  My  father  was  struck 
all  of  a  heap.  "Blessed  if  I  know,"  says  he. — "Not 
know!"  says  the  lawyer. — "No  more  nor  you  do," 
says  my  father,  "can't  I  put  that  in  arterwards  ?"- 
"Impossible!"  says  the  lawyer. — "Wery  well,"  says 
iny  father,  after  he  'd  thought  a  moment,  "put  down 
Mrs.  Clarke." — "What  Clarke?"  says  the  lawyer,  dip- 
ping his  pen  in  the  ink. — "Susan  Clarke,  Markis  o' 
Granby,  Dorking,"  says  my  father;  "she  '11  have  me, 
if  I  ask,  I  des-say — I  never  said  nothing  to  her,  but 
she  '11  have  me,  I  know."  The  licence  was  made  out, 
and  she  did  have  him,  and  what 's  more  she  's  got 
him  now;  and  I  never  had  any  of  the  four  hundred 
pound,  worse  luck.  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  Sam, 
when  he  had  concluded,  'but  wen  I  gets  on  this  here 
grievance,  I  runs  on  like  a  new  barrow  vith  the  wheel 
greased.'  Having  said  which,  and  having  paused  for 
an  instant  to  see  whether  he  was  wanted  for  anything 
more,  Sam  left  the  room. 

'Half-past  nine — just  the  time — off  at  once';  said 
the  gentleman,  whom  we  need  hardly  introduce  as 
Mr.  Jingle. 


162  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Time — for  what?'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  coquet- 

tishly. 

'Licence,  dearest  of  angels — give  notice  at  the 
church — call  you  mine,  to-morrow' — said  Mr.  Jingle, 
as  he  squeezed  the  spinster  aunt's  hand. 

'The  licence!'  said  Rachael,  blushing. 

'The  licence,'  repeated  Mr.  Jingle— 

'In  hurry,  post-haste  for  a  license, 
In  hurry,  ding  dong  I  come  back/ 

'How  you  run  on,'  said  Rachael. 

'Run  on — nothing  to  the  hours,  days,  weeks, 
months,  years,  when  we  're  united — run  on — they  '11 
fly  on — bolt — mizzle — steam-engine — thousand-horse 
power — nothing  to  it.' 

'Can't — can't  we  be  married  before  to-morrow 
morning?'  inquired  Rachael. 

'Impossible — can't  be — notice  at  the  church — leave 
the  licence  to-day — ceremony  come  off  to-morrow.' 

'I  'm  so  terrified,  lest  my  brother  should  discover 
us !'  said  Rachael. 

'Discover — nonsense — too  much  shaken  by  the 
break  down — besides — extreme  caution — gave  up  the 
post-chaise — walked  on — took  a  hackney  coach — came 
to  the  Borough — last  place  in  the  world  that  he  'd  look 
in — ha!  ha! — capital  notion  that — very.' 

'Don't  be  long,'  said  the  spinster,  affectionately, 
as  Mr.  Jingle  stuck  the  pinched-up  hat  on  his  head. 

'Long  away  from  you? — Cruel  charmer,'  and  Mr. 
Jingle  skipped  playfully  up  to  the  spinster  aunt,  im- 
printed a  chaste  kiss  upon  her  lips,  and  danced  out  of 
the  room. 

'Dear  man!'  said  the  spinster  as  the  door  closed 
after  him. 

'Rum  old  girl,'  said  Mr.  Jingle,  as  he  walked  down 
the  passage. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  163 

It  is  painful  to  reflect  upon  the  perfidy  of  our 
species;  and  we  will  not,  therefore,  pursue  the  thread 
of  Mr.  Jingle's  meditations,  as  he  wended  his  way 
to  Doctors'  Commons.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  our 
purpose  to  relate,  that  escaping  the  snares  of  the 
dragons  in  white  aprons,  who  guard  the  entrance  to 
that  enchanted  region,  he  reached  the  Vicar-General's 
office  in  safety,  and  having  procured  a  highly  flatter- 
ing address  on  parchment,  from  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  to  his  'trusty  and  well-beloved  Alfred 
Jingle  and  Rachael  Wardle,  greeting,'  he  carefully 
deposited  the  mystic  document  in  his  pocket,  and 
retraced  his  steps  in  triumph  to  the  Borough. 

He  was  yet  on  his  way  to  the  White  Hart,  when 
two  plump  gentlemen  and  one  thin  one  entered  the 
yard,  and  looked  round  in  search  of  some  authorised 
person  of  whom  they  could  make  a  few  inquiries. 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  happened  to  be  at  that  moment 
engaged  in  burnishing  a  pair  of  painted  tops,  the 
personal  property  of  a  farmer  who  was  refreshing 
himself  with  a  slight  lunch  of  two  or  three  pounds 
of  cold  beef  and  a  pot  or  two  of  porter,  after  the 
fatigues  of  the  Borough  market ;  and  to  him  the  thin 
gentleman  straightway  advanced. 

'My  friend,'  said  the  thin  gentleman. 

'You're  one  o'  the  adwice  gratis  order/  thought 
Sam,  'or  you  wouldn't  be  so  wery  fond  o'  me  all  at 
once.'  But  he  only  said— 'Well,  sir.' 

'My  friend,'  said  the  thin  gentleman,  with  a  con- 
ciliatory hem — 'Have  you  got  many  people  stopping 
here,  now  ?  Pretty  busy.  Eh  ?' 

Sam  stole  a  look  at  the  inquirer.  He  was  a  little 
high-dried  man,  with  a  dark  squeezed-up  face,  and 
small  restless  black  eyes,  that  kept  winking  and 
twinkling  on  each  side  of  his  little  inquisitive  nose, 
as  if  they  were  playing  a  perpetual  game  of  peep-be 


164  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  that  feature.  He  was  dressed  all  in  black,  with 
boots  as  shiny  as  his  eyes,  a  low  white  neckcloth,  and 
a  clean  shirt  with  a  frill  to  it.  A  gold  watch-chain, 
and  seals,  depended  from  his  fob.  He  carried  his 
black  kid  gloves  in  his  hands,  not  on  them;  and  as  he 
spoke,  thrust  his  wrists  beneath  his  coat-tails,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  was  m  the  habit  of  propounding 
some  regular  posers. 

'Pretty  busy,  eh?'  said  the  little  man. 

'Oh,  wery  well,  sir,'  replied  Sam,  'we  shan't  be 
bankrupts,  and  we  shan't  make  our  f  ort'ns.  We  eats 
our  biled  mutton  without  capers,  and  don't  care  for 
horse-radish  wen  ve  can  get  beef.' 

'Ah,'  said  the  little  man,  'you  're  a  wag,  an't  you?' 

'My  eldest  brother  was  troubled  with  that  com- 
plaint,' said  Sam;  'it  may  be  catching — I  used  to 
sleep  with  him.' 

'This  is  a  curious  old  house  of  yours,'  said  the  little 
man,  looking  round  him. 

'If  you  'd  sent  word  you  was  a  coming,  we  'd  ha' 
had  it  repaired,'  replied  the  imperturbable  Sam. 

The  little  man  seemed  rather  baffled  *by  these  sev- 
eral repulses,  and  a  short  consultation  took  place  be- 
tween him  and  the  two  plump  gentlemen.  At  its 
conclusion,  the  little  man  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from 
an  oblong  silver  box,  and  was  apparently  on  the  point 
of  renewing  the  conversation,  when  one  of  the  plump 
gentlemen,  who  in  addition  to  a  benevolent  counte- 
nance, possessed  a  pair  of  spectacles,  and  a  pair  of 
black  gaiters,  interfered — 

'The  fact  of  the  matter  is,'  said  the  benevolent 
gentleman,  'that  my  friend  here  (pointing  to  the 
other  plump  gentleman)  will  give  you  half  a  guinea, 
if  you  '11  answer  one  or  two — ' 

'Now,  my  dear  sir — my  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man, 
'pray,  allow  me — my  dear  sir,  the  very  first  principle 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  165 

to  be  observed  in  these  cases,  is  this:  if  you  place  a 
matter  in  the  hands  of  a  professional  man,  you  must 
in  no  way  interfere  in  the  progress  of  the  business; 
you  must  repose  implicit  confidence  in  him.  Really, 
Mr.  (he  turned  to  the  other  plump  gentleman,  and 
said) — I  forget  your  friend's  name.' 

'Pickwick,'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  for  it  was  no  other 
than  that  jolly  personage. 

'Ah,  Pickwick — really,  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  dear  sir, 
excuse  me — I  shall  be  happy  to  receive  any  private 
suggestions  of  yours,  as  amicus  curice,  but  you  must 
see  the  impropriety  of  your  interfering  with  my  con- 
duct in  this  case,  with  such  an  ad  captandum  argu- 
ment as  the  offer  of  half  a  guinea.  Really,  my  dear 
sir,  really';  and  the  little  man  took  an  argumentative 
pinch  of  snuff,  and  looked  very  profound. 

'My  only  wish,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'was  to 
bring  this  very  unpleasant  matter  to  as  speedy  a  close 
as  possible.' 

'Quite  right — quite  right,'  said  the  little  man. 

'With  which  view,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I 
made  use  of  the  argument  which  my  experience  of 
men  has  taught  me  is  the  most  likely  to  succeed  in 
any  case.' 

rAy,  ay,'  said  the  little  man,  'very  good,  very  good, 
indeed;  but  you  should  have  suggested  it  to  me.  My 
dear  sir,  I  'm  quite  certain  you  cannot  be  ignorant  of 
the  extent  of  confidence  which  must  be  placed  in  pro- 
fessional men.  If  any  authority  can  be  necessary  on 
such  a  point,  my  dear  sir,  let  me  refer  you  to  the  well- 
known  case  in  Barnwell  and — ' 

'Never  mind  George  Barnwell,'  interrupted  Sam, 
who  had  remained  a  wondering  listener  during  this 
short  colloquy;  'everybody  knows  vhat  sort  of  a  case 
his  was,  tho'  "it 's  always  been  my  opinion,  mind  you, 
that  the  young  'ooman  deserved  scragging  a  precious 


166  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sight  more  than  he  did.  Hows'ever,  that's  neither 
here  nor  there.  You  want  me  to  except  of  half  a 
guinea.  Wery  well,  I  'm  agreeable:  I  can't  say  no 
fairer  than  that,  can  I,  sir?  (Mr.  Pickwick  smiled.) 
Then  the  next  question  is,  what  the  devil  do  you  want 
with  me,  as  the  man  said  wen  he  see  the  ghost?' 

'We  want  to  know — '  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

'Now,  my  dear  sir — my  dear  sir,'  interposed  the 
busy  little  man. 

Mr.  Wardle  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was 
silent. 

'We  want  to  know,'  said  the  little  man,  solemnly; 
'and  we  ask  the  question  of  you  in  order  that  we  may 
not  awaken  apprehensions  inside — we  want  to  know 
who  you  Ve  got  in  this  house,  at  present?' 

'Who  there  is  in  the  house!'  said  Sam,  in  whose 
mind  the  inmates  were  always  represented  by  that 
particular  article  of  their  costume,  which  came  under 
his  immediate  superintendence.  'There  's  a  wooden 
leg  in  number  six ;  there 's  a  pair  of  Hessians  in 
thirteen ;  there  's  two  pair  of  halves  in  the  commercial ; 
there  's  these  here  painted  tops  in  the  snuggery  inside 
the  bar;  and  five  more  tops  in  the  coffee-room.' 

'Nothing  more?'  said  the  little  man. 

'Stop  a  bit,'  replied  Sam,  suddenly  recollecting 
himself.  'Yes;  there  's  a  pair  of  Wellingtons  a  good 
deal  worn,  and  a  pair  o'  lady's  shoes,  in  number  five.' 

'What  sort  of  shoes?'  hastily  inquired  Wardle,  who, 
together  with  Mr.  Pickwick,  had  been  lost  in  bewil- 
derment at  the  singular  catalogue  of  visitors. 

'Country  make,'  said  Sam. 

'Any  maker's  name?' 

'Brown.' 

'Where  of?' 

'Muggleton. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  167 

'It  is  them,'  exclaimed  Wardle.  'By  Heavens, 
we  Ve  found  them.' 

'Hush!'  said  Sam.  'The  Wellingtons  has  gone  to 
Doctors'  Commons.' 

'No,'  said  the  little  man. 

'Yes,  for  a  licence.' 

'We  're  in  time,'  exclaimed  Wardle.  'Show  us  the 
room;  not  a  moment  is  to  be  lost.' 

'Pray,  my  dear  sir — pray,'  said  the  little  man;  'cau- 
tion, caution.'  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  red  silk 
purse,  and  looked  very  hard  at  Sam  as  he  drew  out 
a  sovereign. 

Sam  grinned  expressively. 

'Show  us  into  the  room  at  once,  without  announcing 
us,'  said  the  little  man,  'and  it 's  yours.' 

Sam  threw  the  painted  tops  into  a  corner,  and  led 
the  way  through  a  dark  passage,  and  up  a  wide  stair- 
case. He  paused  at  the  end  of  a  second  passage,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

'Here  it  is,'  whispered  the  attorney,  as  he  deposited 
the  money  in  the  hand  of  their  guide. 

The  man  stepped  forward  for  a  few  paces,  followed 
by  the  two  friends  and  their  legal  adviser.  He 
stopped  at  a  door. 

'Is  this  the  room?'  murmured  the  little  gentleman. 

Sam  nodded  assent. 

Old  Wardle  opened  the  door;  and  the  whole  three 
walked  into  the  room,  just  as  Mr.  Jingle,  who  had 
that  moment  returned,  had  produced  the  licence  to 
the  spinster  aunt. 

The  spinster  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  throwing 
herself  in  a  chair,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
Mr.  Jingle  crumpled  up  the  licence,  and  thrust  it 
into  his  coat-pocket.  The  unwelcome  visitors  ad- 
vanced into  the  middle  of  the  room. 


168  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'You — you  are  a  nice  rascal,  arn't  you?'  exclaimed 
Wardle,  breathless  with  passion. 

'My  dear  sir,  my  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man,  lay- 
ing his  hat  on  the  table.  Tray,  consider — pray. 
Defamation  of  character:  action  for  damages.  Calm 
yourself,  my  dear  sir,  pray— 

'How  dare  you  drag  my  sister  from  my  house?' 
said  the  old  man. 

'Ay — ay — very  good,'  said  the  little  gentleman, 
'you  may  ask  that.  How  dare  you,  sir? — eh,  sir?' 

'Who  the  devil  are  you?'  inquired  Mr.  Jingle,  in 
so  fierce  a  tone,  that  the  little  gentleman  involuntarily 
fell  back  a  step  or  two. 

'Who  is  he,  you  scoundrel,'  interposed  Wardle. 
'He  's  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn.  Per- 
ker,  I  '11  have  this  fellow  prosecuted — indicted — I  '11 
—I  '11 — I  '11  ruin  him.  And  you,'  continued  Mr. 
Wardle,  turning  abruptly  round  to  his  sister,  'you, 
Rachael,  at  a  time  of  life  when  you  ought  to  know 
better,  what  do  you  mean  by  running  away  with  a 
vagabond,  disgracing  your  family,  anc^  making  your- 
self miserable?  Get  on  your  bonnet,  and  come  back. 
Call  a  hackney-coach  there,  directly,  and  bring  this 
lady's  bill,  d'ye  hear — d'ye  hear?' 

'Cert'nly,  sir,'  replied  Sam,  who  had  answered 
Wardle's  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  with  a  degree 
of  celerity  which  must  have  appeared  marvellous  to 
anybody  who  didn't  know  that  his  eye  had  been  ap- 
plied to  the  outside  of  the  keyhole  during  the  whole 
interview. 

'Get  on  your  bonnet,'  repeated  Wardle. 

'Do  nothing  of  the  kind,'  said  Jingle.  'Leave  the 
room,  sir — no  business  here — lady  's  free  to  act  as 
she  pleases — more  than  one-and-twenty.' 

'More  than  one-and-twenty!'  ejaculated  Wardle, 
contemptuously.  'More  than  one-and-f orty !' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  169 

'I  an't,'  said  the  spinster  aunt,  her  indignation  get- 
ting the  better  of  her  determination  to  faint. 

'You  are,'  replied  Wardle,  'you  're  fifty  if  you  're 
an  hour.' 

Here  the  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and 
became  senseless. 

'A  glass  of  water,'  said  the  humane  Mr.  Pickwick, 
summoning  the  landlady. 

'A  glass  of  water!'  said  the  passionate  Wardle. 
'Bring  a  bucket,  and  throw  it  all  over  her;  it  '11  do 
her  good,  and  she  richly  deserves  it.' 

'Ugh,  you  brute!'  ejaculated  the  kind-hearted  land- 
lady. 'Poor  dear.'  And  with  sundry  ejaculations, 
of  'Come  now,  there  's  a  dear — drink  a  little  of  this— 
it  '11  do  you  good — don't  give  way  so — there  's  a  love,' 
etc.,  etc.,  the  landlady,  assisted  by  a  chambermaid, 
proceeded  to  vinegar  the  forehead,  beat  the  hands, 
titillate  the  nose,  and  unlace  the  stays  of  the  spinster 
aunt,  and  to  administer  such  other  restoratives  as  are 
usually  applied  by  compassionate  females  to  ladies 
who  are  endeavouring  to  ferment  themselves  into 
hysterics. 

'Coach  is  ready,  sir,'  said  Sam,  appearing  at  the 
door. 

'Come  along,'  cried  Wardle.  *I  '11  carry  her  down- 
stairs.' 

At  this  proposition,  the  hysterics  came  on  with  re- 
doubled violence. 

The  landlady  was  about  to  enter  a  very  violent  pro- 
test against  this  proceeding,  and  had  already  given 
vent  to  an  indignant  inquiry  whether  Mr.  Wardle  con- 
sidered himself  a  lord  of  the  creation,  when  Mr.  Jin- 
gle interposed — 

'Boots,'  said  he,  'get  me  an  officer.' 

'Stay,  stay,'  said  little  Mr.  Perker.  'Consider,  sir, 
consider.' 


170  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  '11  not  consider,'  replied  Jingle.  'She  's  her  own 
mistress — see  who  dares  to  take  her  away — unless  she 
wishes  it.' 

'I  wont  be  taken  away,'  murmured  the  spinster 
aunt.  'I  dont  wish  it.'  (Here  there  was  a  frightful 
relapse. ) 

'My  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man,  in  a  low  tone, 
taking  Mr.  Wardle  and  Mr.  Pickwick  apart:  'My 
dear  sir,  we  're  in  a  very  awkward  situation.  It 's  a 
distressing  case — very;  I  never  knew  one  more  so; 
but  really,  my  dear  sir,  really  we  have  no  power  to 
control  this  lady's  actions.  I  warned  you  before  we 
came,  my  dear  sir,  that  there  was  nothing  to  look  to 
but  a  compromise.' 

There  was  a  short  pause. 

'What  kind  of  compromise  would  you  recom- 
mend?' inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Why,  my  dear  sir,  our  friend  's  in  an  unpleasant 
position — very  much  so.  We  must  be  content  to  suf- 
fer some  pecuniary  loss.' 

'I  '11  suffer  any,  rather  than  submit  to  \this  disgrace, 
and  let  her,  fool  as  she  is,  be  made  miserable  for  life,' 
said  Wardle. 

'I  rather  think  it  can  be  done,'  said  the  bustling 
little  man.  'Mr  Jingle,  will  you  step  with  us  into 
the  next  room  for  a  moment?' 

Mr.  Jingle  assented,  and  the  quartette  walked  into 
an  empty  apartment. 

'Now,  sir,'  said  the  little  man,  as  he  carefully  closed 
the  door,  'is  there  no  way  of  accommodating  this  mat- 
ter— step  this  way,  sir,  for  a  moment — into  this  win- 
dow, sir,  where  we  can  be  alone — there,  sir,  there,  pray 
sit  down,  sir.  Now,  my  dear  sir,  between  you  and 
I,  we  know  very  well,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  have  run 
off  with  this  lady  for  the  sake  of  her  money.  Don't 
frown,  sir,  don't  frown;  I  say,  between  you  and  I, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  171 

we  know  it.  We  are  both  men  of  the  world,  and  we 
know  very  well  that  our  friends  here,  are  not — eh  ?' 

Mr.  Jingle's  face  gradually  relaxed ;  and  something 
distantly  resembling  a  wink  quivered  for  an  instant  in 
his  left  eye. 

'Very  good,  very  good,'  said  the  little  man,  ob- 
serving the  impression  he  had  made.  'Now  the  fact 
is,  that  beyond  a  few  hundreds,  the  lady  has  little  or 
nothing  till  the  death  of  her  mother — fine  old  lady, 
my  dear  sir.' 

'Old,'  said  Mr.  Jingle,  briefly  but  emphatically. 

'Why,  yes,'  said  the  attorney  with  a  slight  cough. 
'You  are  right,  my  dear  sir,  she  is  rather  old.  She 
comes  of  an  old  family  though,  my  dear  sir;  old  in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  The  founder  of  that  family 
came  into  Kent,  when  Julius  Caesar  invaded  Britain; 
• — only  one  member  of  it,  since,  who  hasn't  lived  to 
eighty-five,  and  he  was  beheaded  by  one  of  the 
Henrys.  The  old  lady  is  not  seventy-three  now,  my 
dear  sir.'  The  little  man  paused,  and  took  a  pinch 
of  snuff. 

'Well,'  cried  Mr.  Jingle. 

'Well,  my  dear  sir — you  don't  take  snuff! — ah!  so 
much  the  better — expensive  habit — well,  my  dear  sir, 
you  're  a  fine  young  man,  man  of  the  world — able  to 
push  your  fortune,  if  you  had  capital,  eh?' 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Jingle  again. 

'Do  you  comprehend  me  ?' 

'Not  quite.' 

'Don't  you  think — now,  my  dear  sir,  I  put  it  to 
you,  dont  you  think— that  fifty  pounds  and  liberty, 
would  be  better  than  Miss  Wardle  and  expectation?' 

'Won't  do— not  half  enough!'  said  Mr.  Jingle, 
rising. 

'Nay,  nay,  my  dear  sir/  remonstrated  the  little 
attorney,  seizing  him  by  the  button.  'Good  round 


172  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sum — a  man  like  you  could  treble  it  in  no  time- 
great  deal  to  be  done  with  fifty  pounds,  my  dear  sir.' 
'  'More  to  be  done  with  a  hundred  and  fifty,'  re- 
plied Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

'Well,  my  dear  sir,  we  won't  waste  time  in  splitting 
straws,'  resumed  the  little  man,  'say — say — seventy.' 

'Won't  do,'  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

'Don't  go  away,  my  dear  sir — pray  don't  hurry,' 
said  the  little  man.  'Eighty ;  come :  I  '11  write  you  a 
cheque  at  once.' 

'Won't  do,'  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

'Well,  my  dear  sir,  well/  said  the  little  man,  still 
detaining  him;  'just  tell  me  what  will  do.' 

'Expensive  affair/  said  Mr.  Jingle.     'Money  out 
of  pocket — posting,   nine   pounds;   licence,   three— 
that 's    twelve — compensation,    a    hundred — hundred 
and   twelve — Breach    of   honour — and   loss    of   the 
lady—' 

'Yes,  my  dear  sir,  yes,'  said  the  little  man,  with  a 
knowing  look,  'never  mind  the  last  two  items. 
That 's  a  hundred  and  twelve — say  a  hundred — come.' 

'And  twenty,'  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

'Come,  come,  I  '11  write  you  a  cheque,'  said  the  little 
man ;  and  down  he  sat  at  the  table  for  that  purpose. 

'I  '11  make  it  payable  the  day  after  to-morrow,' 
said  the  little  man,  with  a  look  towards  Mr.  Wardle ; 
'and  we  can  get  the  lady  away,  meanwhile.'  Mr. 
Wardle  sullenly  nodded  assent. 

'A  hundred,'  said  the  little  man. 

'And  twenty,'  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

'My  dear  sir,'  remonstrated  the  little  man. 

'Give  it  him,'  interposed  Mr.  Wardle,  'and  let  him 
go.' 

The  cheque  was  written  by  the  little  gentleman, 
and  pocketed  by  Mr.  Jingle. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  173 

'Now,  leave  this  house  instantly!'  said  Wardle, 
starting  up. 

'My  dear  sir,'  urged  the  little  man. 

'And  mind,'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  'that  nothing  should 
have  induced  me  to  make  this  compromise — not  even  a 
regard  for  my  family— if  I  had  not  known  that  the 
moment  you  got  any  money  in  that  pocket  of  yours, 
you  'd  go  to  the  devil  faster,  if  possible,  than  you 
(vould  without  it — ' 

'My  dear  sir,'  urged  the  little  man  again. 

'Be  quiet,  Perker,'  resumed  Wardle.  'Leave  the 
room,  sir.' 

'Off  directly/  said  the  unabashed  Jingle.  'Bye 
bye,  Pickwick.' 

If  any  dispassionate  spectator  could  have  beheld  the 
countenance  of  the  illustrious  man,  whose  name  forms 
the  leading  feature  of  the  title  of  this  work,  during  the 
latter  part  of  this  conversation,  he  would  have  been 
almost  induced  to  wonder  that  the  indignant  fire  which 
flashed  from  his  eyes,  did  not  melt  the  glasses  of  his 
spectacles — so  majestic  was  his  wrath.  His  nostrils 
dilated,  and  his  fists  clenched  involuntarily,  as  he  heard 
himself  addressed  by  the  villain.  But  he  restrained 
himself  again — he  did  not  pulverise  him. 

'Here,'  continued  the  hardened  traitor,  tossing  the 
license  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  feet ;  'get  the  name  altered — 
take  home  the  lady — do  for  Tuppy.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  philosopher,  but  philosophers 
are  only  men  in  armour,  after  all.  The  shaft  had 
reached  him,  penetrated  through  his  philosophical  haT> 
ness,  to  his  very  heart.  In  the  frenzy  of  his  rage,  he 
hurled  the  inkstand  madly  forward,  and  followed  it  up 
himself.  But  Mr.  Jingle  had  disappeared,  and  he 
found  himself  caught  in  the  arms  of  Sam. 

'Hallo,'  said  that  eccentric  functionary,  'furniter's 


174  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

cheap  where  you  come  from,  sir.  Self-acting  ink, 
that  'ere ;  it 's  wrote  your  mark  upon  the  wall,  old 
gen'l'm'n.  Hold  still,  sir:  wot's  the  use  o'  runnin' 
arter  a  man  as  has  made  his  lucky,  and  got  to  t'  other 
end  of  the  Borough  by  this  time?' 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  like  those  of  all  truly  great 
men,  was  open  to  conviction.  He  was  a  quick,  and 
powerful  reasoner;  and  a  moment's  reflection  sufficed 
to  remind  him  of  the  impotency  of  his  rage.  It  sub- 
sided as  quickly  as  it  had  been  roused.  He  panted 
for  breath,  and  looked  benignantly  round  upon  his 
friends. 

Shall  we  tell  the  lamentations  that  ensued,  when 
Miss  Wardle  found  herself  deserted  by  the  faithless 
Jingle?  Shall  we  extract  Mr.  Pickwick's  masterly 
description  of  that  heart-rending  scene?  His  note- 
book, blotted  with  the  tears  of  sympathising  human- 
ity, lies  open  before  us;  one  word,  and  it  is  in  the 
printer's  hands.  But,  no!  we  will  be  resolute!  We 
will  not  wring  the  public  bosom,  with  the  delineation 
of  such  suffering !  \ 

Slowly  and  sadly  did  the  two  friends  and  the 
.deserted  lady,  return  next  day  in  the  Muggleton 
heavy  coach.  Dimly  and  darkly  had  the  sombre 
shadows  of  a  summer's  night  fallen  upon  all  around, 
when  they  again  reached  Dingley  Dell,  and  stood 
within  the  entrance  to  Manor  Farm. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  175 


CHAPTER  XI 

INVOLVING  ANOTHER  JOURNEY,  AND  AN  ANTIQUARIAN 
DISCOVERY.  RECORDING  MR.  PICKWICK'S  DETERMI- 
NATION TO  BE  PRESENT  AT  AN  ELECTION;  AND  CON- 
TAINING A  MANUSCRIPT  OF  THE  OLD  CLERGYMAN'S 

A  NIGHT  of  quiet  and  repose  in  the  profound  silence 
of  Dingley  Dell,  and  an  hour's  breathing  of  its  fresh 
and  fragrant  air  on  the  ensuing  morning,  completely 
recovered  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  effects  of  his  late 
fatigue  of  body  and  anxiety  of  mind.  That  illus- 
trious man  had  been  separated  from  his  friends  and 
followers,  for  two  whole  days ;  and  it  was  with  a  degree 
of  pleasure  and  delight,  which  no  common  imagination 
can  adequately  conceive,  that  he  stepped  forward 
to  greet  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  he  en- 
countered those  gentlemen  on  his  return  from  his 
early  walk.  The  pleasure  was  mutual ;  for  who  could 
ever  gaze  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  beaming  face  without 
experiencing  the  sensation?  But  still  a  cloud  seemed 
to  hang  over  his  companions  which  that  great  man 
could  not  but  be  sensible  of,  and  was  wholly  at  a  loss 
to  account  for.  There  was  a  mysterious  air  about 
them  both,  as  unusual  as  it  was  alarming. 

'And  how,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had 
grasped  his  followers  by  the  hand,  and  exchanged 
warm  salutations  of  welcome;  'how  is  Tupman?' 

Mr.  Winkle,  to  whom  the  question  was  more  pecu- 
liarly addressed,  made  no  reply.  He  turned  away  his 
head,  and  appeared  absorbed  in  melancholy  reflection. 

'Snodgrass,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly,  'How  is 
our  friend — he  is  not  ill  ?' 

'No,'  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass;  and  a  tear  trembled 


176  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

on  his  sentimental  eye-lid,  like  a  rain-drop  on  a 
window-frame.  'No ;  he  is  not  ill.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  stopped,  and  gazed  on  each  of  his 
friends  in  turn. 

'Winkle — Snodgrass,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  'what 
does  this  mean?  Where  is  our  friend?  What  has 
happened?  Speak — I  conjure,  I  entreat — nay,  I 
command  you,  speak.' 

There  was  a  solemnity — a  dignity — in  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's manner,  not  to  be  withstood. 

'He  is  gone,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Gone!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Gone!' 

'Gone,'  repeated  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Where!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'We  can  only  guess,  from  that  communication,'  re- 
plied Mr.  Snodgrass,  taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket, 
and  placing  it  in  his  friend's  hand.  'Yesterday 
morning,  when  a  letter  was  received  from  Mr.  Wardle, 
stating  that  you  would  be  home  with  his  sister  at 
night,  the  melancholy  which  had  hung  over  our  friend 
during  the  whole  of  the  previous  day)  was  observed 
to  increase.  He  shortly  afterwards  disappeared:  he 
was  missing  during  the  whole  day,  and  in  the  evening 
this  letter  was  brought  by  the  hostler  from  the  Crown, 
at  Muggleton.  It  had  been  left  in  his  charge  in  the 
morning,  with  a  strict  injunction  that  it  should  not  be 
delivered  until  night.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  epistle.  It  was  in  his 
friend's  handwriting,  and  these  were  its  contents  :— 

'My  DEAR  PICKWICK, 

'You,  my  dear  friend,  are  placed  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  many  mortal  frailties  and  weaknesses  which 
ordinary  people  cannot  overcome.  You  do  not  know 
what  it  is,  at  one  blow,  to  be  deserted  by  a  lovely  and 
fascinating  creature,  and  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  arti- 


177 

fices  of  a  villain,  who  hid  the  grin  of  cunning,  be- 
neath the  mask  of  friendship.  I  hope  you  never  may. 
'Any  letter,  addressed  to  me  at  the  Leather  Bottle, 
Cobham,  Kent,  will  be  forwarded — supposing  I  still 
exist.  I  hasten  from  the  sight  of  that  world,  which 
has  become  odious  to  me.  Should  I  hasten  from  it 
altogether,  pity — forgive  me.  Life,  my  dear  Pick- 
wick, has  become  insupportable  to  me.  The  spirit 
which  burns  within  us,  is  a  porter's  knot,  on  which  to 
rest  the  heavy  load  of  worldly  cares  and  troubles ;  and 
when  that  spirit  fails  us,  the  burden  is  too  heavy  to  be 
borne.  We  sink  beneath  it.  You  may  tell  Rachael— 
Ah,  that  name ! — 

'TRACY  TUPMAN.' 

'We  must  leave  this  place,  directly,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, as  he  refolded  the  note.  'It  would  not  have 
been  decent  for  us  to  remain  here,  under  any  circum- 
stances, after  what  has  happened;  and  now  we  are 
bound  to  follow  in  search  of  our  friend.'  And  so 
saying,  he  led  the  way  to  the  house. 

His  intention  was  rapidly  communicated.  The 
entreaties,  to  remain  were  pressing,  but  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  inflexible.  Business,  he  said,  required  his  im- 
mediate attendance. 

The  old  clergyman  was  present. 

'You  are  not  really  going?'  said  he,  taking  Mr. 
Pickwick  aside. 

Mr.  Pickwick  reiterated  his  former  determination. 

'Then  here,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'is  a  little  man- 
uscript, which  I  had  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
reading  to  you  myself.  1  found  it  on  the  death  of  a 
friend  of  mine — a  medical  man,  engaged  in  our 
County  Lunatic  Asylum — among  a  variety  of  papers, 
which  I  had  the  option  of  destroying  or  preserving, 
as  I  thought  proper.  I  can  hardly  believe  that  the 


178          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

manuscript  is  genuine,  though  it  certainly  is  not  in 
my  friend's  hand.  However,  whether  it  be  the  genu- 
ine production  of  a  maniac,  or  founded  upon  the 
ravings  of  some  unhappy  being  (which  I  think  more 
probable),  read  it,  and  judge  for  yourself.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  received  the  manuscript,  and  parted 
from  the  benevolent  old  gentleman  with  many  expres- 
sions of  good-will  and  esteem. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  task  to  take  leave  of  the 
inmates  of  Manor  Farm,  from  whom  they  had  re- 
ceived so  much  hospitality  and  kindness.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick kissed  the  young  ladies — we  were  going  to  say, 
as  if  they  were  his  own  daughters,  only  as  he  might 
possibly  have  infused  a  little  more  warmth  into  the 
salutation,  the  comparison  would  not  be  quite  appro- 
priate— hugged  the  old  lady  with  filial  cordiality :  and 
patted  the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  female  servants  in  a 
most  patriarchal  manner,  as  he  slipped  into  the  hands 
of  each,  some  more  substantial  expression  of  his  ap- 
proval. The  exchange  of  cordialities  with  their  fine 
old  host  and  Mr.  Trundle,  was  even  m^re  hearty  and 
prolonged;  and  it  was  not  until  Mr.  Snodgrass  had 
been  several  times  called  for,  and  at  last  emerged  from 
a  dark  passage  followed  soon  after  by  Emily  (whose 
bright  eyes  looked  unusually  dim),  that  the  three 
friends  were  enabled  to  tear  themselves  from  their 
friendly  entertainers.  Many  a  backward  look  they 
gave  at  the  Farm,  as  they  walked  slowly  away:  and 
many  a  kiss  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  waft  in  the  air,  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  something  very  like  a  lady's  hand- 
kerchief, which  was  waved  from  one  of  the  upper  win- 
dows, until  a  turn  of  the  lane  hid  the  old  house  from 
their  sight. 

At  Muggleton  they  procured  a  conveyance  to 
Rochester.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  last-named 
place,  the  violence  of  their  grief  had  sufficiently 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  179 

abated  to  admit  of  their  making  a  very  excellent  early 
dinner;  and  having  procured  the  necessary  informa- 
tion relative  to  the  road,  the  three  friends  set  forward 
again  in  the  afternoon  to  walk  to  Cobham. 

A  delightful  walk  it  was:  for  it  was  a  pleasant 
afternoon  in  June,  and  their  way  lay  through  a  deep 
and  shady  wood,  cooled  by  the  light  wind  which  gently 
rustled  the  thick  foliage,  and  enlivened  by  the  songs 
of  the  birds  that  perched  upon  the  boughs.  The  ivy 
and  the  moss  crept  in  thick  clusters  over  the  old  trees, 
and  the  soft  green  turf  overspread  the  ground  like  a 
silken  mat.  They  emerged  upon  an  open  park,  with 
an  ancient  hall,  displaying  the  quaint  and  pictur- 
esque architecture  of  Elizabeth's  time.  Long  vistas 
of  stately  oaks  and  elm  trees  appeared  on  every  side : 
large  herds  of  deer  were  cropping  the  fresh  grass; 
and  occasionally  a  startled  hare  scoured  along  the 
ground,  with  the  speed  of  the  shadows  thrown  by  the 
fight  clouds  which  swept  across  a  sunny  landscape  like 
a  passing  breath  of  summer. 

'If  this,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about  him,  'if 
this  were  the  place  to  which  all  who  are  troubled  with 
our  friend's  complaint  came,  I  fancy  their  old  attach- 
ment to  this  world  would  very  soon  return/ 

'I  think  so  too,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'And  really,'  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  half  an 
hour's  walking  had  brought  them  to  the  village,  'really, 
for  a  misanthrope's  choice,  this  is  one  of  the  prettiest 
and  most  desirable  places  of  residence  I  ever  met 
with.' 

In  this  opinion  also,  both  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  expressed  their  concurrence;  and  having 
been  directed  to  the  Leather  Bottle,  a  clean  and 
commodious  village  ale-house,  the  three  travellers 
entered,  and  at  once  inquired  for  a  gentleman  of  the 
name  of  Tupman. 


180  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Show  the  gentlemen  into  the  parlour,  Tom,'  said 
the  landlady. 

A  stout  country  lad  opened  a  door  at  the  end  of 
the  passage,  and  the  three  friends  entered  a  long,  low- 
roofed  room,  furnished  with  a  large  number  of  high- 
backed  leather-cushioned  chairs,  of  fantastic  shapes, 
and  embellished  with  a  great  variety  of  old  portraits 
and  roughly-coloured  prints  of  some  antiquity.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  room  was  a  table,  with  a  white 
cloth  upon  it,  well  covered  with  a  roast  fowl,  bacon, 
ale,  and  et  ceteras ;  and  at  the  table  sat  Mr.  Tupman, 
looking  as  unlike  a  man  who  had  taken  his  leave  of  the 
world,  as  possible. 

On  the  entrance  of  his  friends,  that  gentleman  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  with  a  mournful  air 
advanced  to  meet  them. 

'I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  here/  he  said,  as  he 
grasped  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand.  'It 's  very  kind.' 

'Ah!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting  down,  and  wiping 
from  his  forehead  the  perspiration  which  the  walk  had 
engendered.  'Finish  your  dinner,  and  walk  out  with 
me.  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  alone.' 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  desired;  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick having  refreshed  himself  with  a  copious  draught 
of  ale,  waited  his  friend's  leisure.  The  dinner  was 
quickly  despatched,  and  they  walked  out  together. 

For  half  an  hour,  their  forms  might  have  been  seen 
pacing  the  churchyard  to  and  fro,  while  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  engaged  in  combating  his  companion's  resolu- 
tion. Any  repetition  of  his  arguments  would  be  use- 
less; for  what  language  could  convey  to  them  that 
energy  and  force  which  their  great  originator's  man- 
ner communicated?  Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was 
already  tired  of  retirement,  or  whether  he  was  wholly 
unable  to  resist  the  eloquent  appeal  which  was  made 
to  him,,  matters  not,  he  did  not  resist  it  at  last. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  181 

'It  mattered  little  to  him,'  he  said,  'where  he 
dragged  out  the  miserable  remainder  of  his  days:  and 
since  his  friend  laid  so  much  stress  upon  his  humble 
companionship,  he  was  willing  to  share  his  adven- 
tures.' • 

Mr.  Pickwick  smiled ;  they  shook  hands ;  and  walked 
back  to  rejoin  their  companions. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mr.  Pickwick  made  that 
immortal  discovery,  which  has  been  the  pride  and 
boast  of  his  friends,  and  the  envy  of  every  antiqua- 
rian in  this  or  any  other  country.  They  had  passed 
the  door  of  their  inn,  and  walked  a  little  way  down 
the  village,  before  they  recollected  the  precise  spot  in 
which  it  stood.  As  they  turned  back,  Mr.  Pickwick's 
eye  fell  upon  a  small  broken  stone,  partially  buried 
in  the  ground,  in  front  of  a  cottage  door.  He  paused. 

'This  is  very  strange,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'What  is  strange?'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  staring 
eagerly  at  every  object  near  him,  but  the  right  one. 
'God  bless  me,  what 's  the  matter?' 

This  last  was  an  ejaculation  of  irrepressible  aston- 
ishment, occasioned  by  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his 
enthusiasm  for  discovery,  fall  on  his  knees  before  the 
little  stone,  and  commence  wiping  the  dust  off  it  with 
his  pocket-handkerchief. 

'There  is  an  inscription  here,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Is  it  possible?'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'I  can  discern,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing 
away  with  all  his  might,  and  gazing  intently  through 
his  spectacles :  'I  can  discern  a  cross,  and  a  B,  and  then 
a  T.  This  is  important,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick, 
starting  up.  'This  is  some  very  old  inscription, 
existing  perhaps  long  before  the  ancient  alms-houses 
in  this  place.  It  must  not  be  lost.' 

He  tapped  at  the  cottage  door.  A  labouring  man 
opened  it. 


182  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Do  you  know  how  this  stone  came  here,  my 
friend?'  inquired  the  benevolent  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,  I  doan't,  sir,'  replied  the  man  civilly.  'It  was 
here  long  afore  I  war  born,  or  any  on  us/ 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  triumphantly  at  his  com- 
panion. 

'You  —  you  —  are  not  particularly  attached  to  it,  I 
dare  say,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  trembling  with  anxiety. 
'You  wouldn't  mind  selling  it,  now?' 

'Ah  !  but  who  'd  buy  it  ?'  inquired  the  man,  with  an 
expression  of  face  which  he  probably  meant  to  be  very 
cunning. 

'I  '11  give  you  ten  shillings  for  it,  at  once,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  'if  you  would  take  it  up  for  me.' 

The  astonishment  of  the  village  may  be  easily 
imagined,  when  (the  little  stone  having  been  raised 
with  one  wrench  of  a  spade)  ,  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  dint  of 
great  personal  exertion,  bore  it  with  his  own  hands  to 
the  inn,  and  after  having1  carefully  washed  it,  depos- 
ited it  on  the  table. 

The  exultation  and  joy  of  the  Pickwickians  knew 
no  bounds,  when  their  patience  and  assiduity,  their 
washing  and  scraping,  were  crowned  with  success. 
The  stone  was  uneven  and  broken,  and  the  letters 
were  straggling  and  irregular,  but  the  following 
fragment  of  an  inscription  was  clearly  to  be  deci- 
phered : 


B  I  L  S  T 

U  M 
P  S  H  I 

S.  M. 
ARK 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  183 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  as  he 
sat  and  gloated  over  the  treasure  he  had  discovered. 
He  had  attained  one  of  the  greatest  objects  of  his 
ambition.  In  a  county  known  to  abound  in  remains 
of  the  early  ages ;  in  a  village  in  which  there  still  ex- 
isted some  memorials  of  the  olden  time,  he — he,  the 
Chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club — had  discovered  a 
strange  and  curious  inscription  of  unquestionable  an- 
tiquity, which  had  wholly  escaped  the  observation  of 
the  many  learned  men  who  had  preceded  him.  He 
could  hardly  trust  the  evidence  of  his  senses. 

'This — this,'  said  he,  'determines  me.  We  return 
to  town,  to-morrow.' 

'To-morrow!'  exclaimed  his  admiring  followers. 

'To-morrow,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'This  treasure 
must  be  at  once  deposited  where  it  can  be  thoroughly 
investigated,  and  properly  understood.  I  have 
another  reason  for  this  step.  In  a  few  days,  an  elec- 
tion is  to  take  place  for  the  borough  of  Eatanswill, 
at  which  Mr.  Perker,  a  gentleman  whom  I  lately  met, 
is  the  agent  of  one  of  the  candidates.  We  will  be- 
hold, and  minutely  examine,  a  scene  so  interesting  to 
every  Englishman.' 

'We  will,'  was  the  animated  cry  of  three  voices. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  round  him.  The  attachment 
and  fervour  of  his  followers,  lighted  up  a  glow  of 
enthusiasm  within  him.  He  was  their  leader,  and  he 
felt  it. 

'Let  us  celebrate  this  happy  meeting  with  a  con- 
vivial glass,'  said  he.  This  proposition,  like  the  other, 
was  received  with  unanimous  applause.  Having 
himself  deposited  the  important  stone  in  a  small  deal 
box,  purchased  from  the  landlady  for  the  purpose, 
he  placed  himself  in  an  arm-chair  at  the  head  of  the 
table;  and  the  evening  was  devoted  to  festivity  and 
conversation. 


184  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock — a  late  hour  for  the  little 
village  of  Cobham — when  Mr.  Pickwick  retired  to 
the  bed-room  which  had  been  prepared  for  his  recep- 
tion. He  threw  open  the  lattice-window,  and  setting 
his  light  upon  the  table,  fell  into  a  train  of  meditation 
on  the  hurried  events  of  the  two  preceding  days. 

The  hour  and  the  place  were  both  favourable  to 
contemplation;  Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused  by  the 
church-clock  striking  twelve.  The  first  stroke  of  the 
hour  sounded  solemnly  in  his  ear,  but  when  the  bell 
ceased  the  stillness  seemed  insupportable; — he  almost 
felt  as  if  he  had  lost  a  companion.  He  was  nervous 
and  excited ;  and  hastily  undressing  himself  and  plac- 
ing his  light  in  the  chimney,  got  into  bed. 

Every  one  has  experienced  that  disagreeable  state 
of  mind,  in  which  a  sensation  of  bodily  weariness  in 
vain  contends  against  an  inability  to  sleep.  It  was 
Mr.  Pickwick's  condition  at  this  moment:  he  tossed 
first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other;  and  persever- 
ingly  closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  coax  himself  to  slumber. 
It  was  of  no  use.  Whether  it  was  tht\  unwonted  ex- 
ertion he  had  undergone,  or  the  heat,  or  the  brandy- 
and-water,  or  the  strange  bed — whatever  it  was,  his 
thoughts  kept  reverting  very  uncomfortably  to  the 
grim  pictures  downstairs  and  the  old  stories  to  which 
they  had  given  rise  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 
After  half  an  hour's  tumbling  about,  he  came  to  the 
unsatisfactory  conclusion,  that  it  was  of  no  use  trying 
to  sleep;  so  he  got  up  and  partially  dressed  himself. 
Anything,  he  thought,  was  better  than  lying  there 
fancying  all  kinds  of  horrors.  He  looked  out  of  the 
window — it  was  very  dark.  He  walked  about  the 
room — it  was  very  lonely. 

He  had  taken  a  few  turns  from  the  door  to  the 
window,  and  from  the  window  to  the  door,  when  the 
clergyman's  manuscript  for  the  first  time  entered  his 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  185 

head.  It  was  a  good  thought.  If  it  failed  to  inter- 
est him,  it  might  send  him  to  sleep.  He  took  it  from 
his  coat-pocket,  and  drawing  a  small  table  towards 
his  bedside,  trimmed  the  light,  put  on  his  spectacles, 
and  composed  himself  to  read.  It  was  a  strange 
hand-writing,  and  the  paper  was  much  soiled  and 
blotted.  The  title  gave  him  a  sudden  start,  too;  and 
he  could  not  avoid  casting  a  wistful  glance  round  the 
room.  Reflecting  on  the  absurdity  of  giving  way 
to  such  feelings,  however,  he  trimmed  the  light  again, 
and  read  as  follows : 

A  MADMAN'S  MANUSCRIPT 

'YES!  a  madman's!  How  that  word  would  have 
struck  to  my  heart,  many  years  ago!  How  it  would 
have  roused  the  terror  that  used  to  come  upon  me 
sometimes;  sending  the  blood  hissing  and  tingling 
through  my  veins,  till  the  cold  dew  of  fear  stood  in 
large  drops  upon  my  skin,  and  my  knees  knocked 
together  with  fright !  I  like  it  now,  though.  It 's 
a  fine  name.  Show  me  the  monarch  whose  angry 
frown  was  ever  feared  like  the  glare  of  a  madman's 
eye — whose  cord  and  axe  were  ever  half  so  sure  as  a 
madman's  gripe.  Ho!  ho!  It's  a  grand  thing  to 
be  mad!  to  be  peeped  at  like  a  wild  lion  through  the 
iron  bars — to  gnash  one's  teeth  and  howl,  through 
the  long  still  night,  to  the  merry  ring  of  a  heavy 
chain — and  to  roll  and  twine  among  the  straw,  trans- 
ported with  such  brave  music.  Hurrah  for  the  mad- 
house !  Oh,  it 's  a  rare  place ! 

'I  remember  days  when  I  was  afraid  of  being  mad; 
when  I  used  to  start  from  my  sleep,  and  fall  upon 
my  knees,  and  pray  to  be  spared  from  the  curse  of  my 
race;  when  I  rushed  from  the  sight  of  merriment  or 
happiness,  to  hide  myself  in  some  lonely  place,  and 
spend  the  weary  hours  in  watching  the  progress  of 


186  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  fever  that  was  to  consume  my  brain.  I  knew 
that  madness  was  mixed  up  with  my  very  blood,  and 
the  marrow  of  my  bones;  that  one  generation  had 
passed  away  without  the  pestilence  appearing  among 
them,  and  that  I  was  the  first  in  whom  it  would  re- 
vive. I  knew  it  must  be  so:  that  so  it  always  had 
been,  and  so  it  ever  would  be:  and  when  I  cowered 
in  some  obscure  corner  of  a  crowded  room,  and  saw 
men  whisper,  and  point,  and  turn  their  eyes  towards 
me,  I  knew  they  were  telling  each  other  of  the  doomed 
madman ;  and  I  slunk  away  again  to  mope  in  solitude. 

'I  did  this  for  years;  long,  long  years  they  were. 
The  nights  here  are  long  sometimes — very  long;  but 
they  are  nothing  to  the  restless  nights,  and  dreadful 
dreams  I  had  at  that  time.  It  makes  me  cold  to  re- 
member them.  Large  dusky  forms  with  sly  and  jeer- 
ing faces  crouched  in  the  corners  of  the  room,  and 
ftent  over  my  bed  at  night,  tempting  me  to  madness. 
They  told  me  in  low  whispers,  that  the  floor  of  the 
old  house  in  which  my  father's  father  died,  was 
stained  with  his  own  blood,  shed  by  his  own  hand  in 
raging  madness.  I  drove  my  fingers  into  my  ears, 
but  they  screamed  into  my  head  till  the  room  rang 
with  it,  that  in  one  generation  before  him  the  madness 
slumbered,  but  that  his  grandfather  had  lived  for 
years  with  his  hands  fettered  to  the  ground,  to  pre- 
vent his  tearing  himself  to  pieces.  I  knew  they  told 
the  truth — I  knew  it  well.  I  had  found  it  out  years 
before,  though  they  had  tried  to  keep  it  from  me. 
Ha!  ha!  I  was  too  cunning  for  them,  madman  as 
they  thought  me. 

'At  last  it  came  upon  me,  and  I  wondered  how  I 
could  ever  have  feared  it.  I  could  go  into  the  world 
now,  and  laugh  and  shout  with  the  best  among  them. 
I  knew  I  was  mad,  but  they  did  not  even  suspect  it. 
How  I  used  to  hug  myself  with  delight,  when  I 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  187 

thought  of  the  fine  trick  I  was  playing  them  after 
their  old  pointing  and  leering,  when  I  was  not  mad, 
but  only  dreading  that  I  might  one  day  become  so! 
And  how  I  used  to  laugh  for  joy,  when  I  was  alone, 
and  thought  how  well  I  kept  my  secret,  and  how 
quickly  my  kind  friends  would  have  fallen  from  me, 
if  they  had  known  the  truth.  I  could  have  screamed 
with  ecstasy  when  I  dined  alone  with  some  fine  roar- 
ing fellow,  to  think  how  pale  he  would  have  turned, 
and  how  fast  he  would  have  run,  if  he  had  known 
that  the  dear  friend  who  sat  close  to  him,  sharpening 
a  bright  glittering  knife,  was  a  madman  with  all  the 
power,  and  half  the  will,  to  plunge  it  in  his  heart. 
Oh,  it  was  a  merry  life! 

'Riches  became  mine,  wealth  poured  in  upon  me, 
and  I  rioted  in  pleasures  enhanced  a  thousand-fold 
to  me  by  the  consciousness  of  my  well-kept  secret.  I 
inherited  an  estate.  The  law — the  eagle-eyed  law 
itself — had  been  deceived,  and  had  handed  over  dis- 
puted thousands  to  a  madman's  hands.  Where  was 
the  wit  of  the  sharp-sighted  men  of  sound  mind? 
Where  the  dexterity  of  the  lawyers,  eager  to  discover 
a  flaw?  The  maciman's  cunning  had  over-reached 
them  all. 

'I  had  money.  How  I  was  courted!  I  spent  it 
profusely.  How  I  was  praised!  How  those  three 
proud  overbearing  brothers  humbled  themselves  be- 
fore me!  The  old  white-headed  father,  too — such 
deference — such  respect — such  devoted  friendship- 
he  worshipped  me!  The  old  man  had  a  daughter, 
and  the  young  men  a  sister;  and  all  the  five  were  poor. 
I  was  rich;  and  when  I  married  the  girl,  I  saw  a  smile 
of  triumph  play  upon  the  faces  of  her  needy  rela- 
tives, as  they  thought  of  their  well-planned  scheme, 
and  their  fine  prize.  It  was  for  me  to  smile.  To 
smile !  To  laugh  outright,  and  tear  my  hair,  and  roll 


188  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

upon  the  ground  with  shrieks  of  merriment.     They 
little  thought  they  had  married  her  to  a  madman. 

'Stay.  If  they  had  known  it,  would  they  have 
saved  her?  A  sister's  happiness  against  her  hus- 
band's gold.  The  lightest  feather  I  blow  into  the  air, 
against  the  gay  chain  that  ornaments  my  body ! 

'In  one  thing  I  was  deceived  with  all  my  cunning. 
If  I  had  not  been  mad — for  though  we  madmen  are 
sharp-witted  enough,  we  get  bewildered  sometimes— 
I  should  have  known  that  the  girl  would  rather  have 
been  placed,  stiff  and  cold  in  a  dull  leaden  coffin,  than 
borne  an  envied  bride  to  my  rich,  glittering  house.  I 
should  have  known  that  her  heart  was  with  the  dark- 
eyed  boy  whose  name  I  once  heard  her  breathe  in  her 
troubled  sleep;  and  that  she  had  been  sacrificed  to 
me,  to  relieve  the  poverty  of  the  old  white-headed 
man,  and  the  haughty  brothers. 

'I  don't  remember  forms  or  faces  now,  but  I  know 
the  girl  was  beautiful.  I  know  she  was;  for  in  the 
bright  moonlight  nights,  when  I  start  up  from  my 
sleep,  and  all  is  quiet  about  me,  I  sev^,  standing  still 
and  motionless  in  one  corner  of  this  cell,  a  slight  and 
wasted  figure  with  long  black  hair,  which  streaming 
down  her  back,  stirs  with  no  earthly  wind,  and  eyes 
that  fix  their  gaze  on  me,  and  never  wink  or  close. 
Hush !  the  blood  chills  at  my  heart  as  I  write  it  down 
—that  form  is  hers;  the  face  is  very  pale,  and  the 
eyes  are  glassy  bright;  but  I  know  them  well.  That 
figure  never  moves;  it  never  frowns  and  mouths  as 
others  do,  that  fill  this  place  sometimes ;  but  it  is  much 
more  dreadful  to  me,  even  than  the  spirits  that 
tempted  me  many  years  ago — it  comes  fresh  from  the 
grave ;  and  is  so  very  death-like. 

'For  nearly  a  year  I  saw  that  face  grow  paler ;  for 
nearly  a  year  I  saw  the  tears  steal  down  the  mourn- 
ful cheeks,  and  never  knew  the  cause.  I  found  it  out 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  189 

at  last  though.  They  could  not  keep  it  from  me  long, 
She  had  never  liked  me;  I  had  never  thought  she  did: 
she  despised  my  wealth,  and  hated  the  splendour  in 
which  she  lived ; — I  had  not  expected  that.  She  loved 
another.  This  I  had  never  thought  of.  Strange 
feelings  came  over  me,  and  thoughts,  forced  upon  me 
by  some  secret  power,  whirled  round  and  round  my 
brain.  I  did  not  hate  her,  though  I  hated  the  boy 
she  still  wept  for.  I  pitied — yes,  I  pitied — the 
wretched  life  to  which  her  cold  and  selfish  relations 
had  doomed  her.  I  knew  that  she  could  not  live  long, 
but  the  thought  that  before  her  death  she  might  give 
birth  to  some  ill-fated  being,  destined  to  hand  down 
madness  to  its  offspring,  determined  me.  I  resolved 
to  kill  her. 

'For  many  weeks  I  thought  of  poison,  and  then 
of  drowning,  and  then  of  fire.  A  fine  sight  the  grand 
house  in  flames,  and  the  madman's  wife  smouldering 
away  to  cinders.  Think  of  the  jest  of  a  large  reward, 
too,  and  of  some  sane  man  swinging  in  the  wind  for 
a  deed  he  never  did,  and  all  through  a  madman's  cun- 
ning! I  thought  often  of  this,  but  I  gave  it  up  at 
last.  Oh!  the  pleasure  of  stropping  the  razor  day 
after  day,  feeling  the  sharp  edge,  and  thinking  of  the 
gash  one  stroke  of  its  thin  bright  edge  would  make! 

'At  last  the  old  spirits  who  had  been  with  me  so 
often  before  whispered  in  my  ear  that  the  time  was 
come,  and  thrust  the  open  razor  into  my  hand.  I 
grasped  it  firmly,  rose  softly  from  the  bed,  and  leaned 
over  my  sleeping  wife.  Her  face  was  buried  in  her 
hands.  I  withdrew  them  softly,  and  they  fell  list- 
lessly on  her  bosom.  She  had  been  weeping;  for  the 
traces  of  the  tears  were  still  wet  upon  her  cheek. 
Her  face  was  calm  and  placid;  and  even  as  I  looked 
upon  it,  a  tranquil  smile  lighted  up  her  pale  features. 
I  laid  my  hand  softly  on  her  shoulder.  She  started 


190  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

— it  was  only  a  passing  dream.  I  leant  forward 
again.  She  screamed,  and  woke. 

'One  motion  of  my  hand,  and  she  would  never  again 
have  uttered  cry  or  sound.  But  I  was  startled,  and 
drew  back.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  mine.  I  know 
not  how  it  was,  but  they  cowed  and  frightened  me; 
and  I  quailed  beneath  them.  She  rose  from  the  bed, 
still  gazing  fixedly  and  steadily  on  me.  I  trembled; 
the  razor  was  in  my  hand,  but  I  could  not  move.  She 
made  towards  the  door.  As  she  neared  it,  she  turned, 
and  withdrew  her  eyes  from  my  face.  The  spell  was 
broken.  I  bounded  forward,  and  clutched  her  by  the 
arm.  Uttering  shriek  upon  shriek,  she  sunk  upon 
the  ground. 

'Now  I  could  have  killed  her  without  a  struggle; 
but  the  house  was  alarmed.  I  heard  the  tread  of 
footsteps  on  the  stairs.  I  replaced  the  razor  in  its 
usual  drawer,  unfastened  the  door,  and  called  loudly 
for  assistance. 

'They  came,  and  raised  her,  and  placed  her  on  the 
bed.  She  lay  bereft  of  animation  for  hours ;  and  when 
life,  look,  and  speech  returned,  her  senses  had  deserted 
her,  and  she  raved  wildly  and  furiously. 

'Doctors  were  called  in — great  men  who  rolled  up 
to  my  door  in  easy  carriages,  with  fine  horses  and 
gaudy  servants.  They  were  at  her  bedside  for  weeks. 
They  had  a  great  meeting,  and  consulted  together  in 
low  and  solemn  voices  in  another  room.  One,  the 
cleverest  and  most  celebrated  among  them,  took  me 
aside,  and  bidding  me  prepare  for  the  worst,  told 
me — me,  the  madman! — that  my  wife  was  mad.  He 
stood  close  beside  me  at  an  open  window,  his  eyes  look- 
ing in  my  face,  and  his  hand  laid  upon  my  arm.  With 
one  effort,  I  could  have  hurled  him  into  the  street 
beneath.  It  would  have  been  rare  sport  to  have  done 
it;  but  my  secret  was  at  stake,  and  I  let  him  go.  A 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  191 

few  days  after,  they  told  me  I  must  place  her  under 
some  restraint:  I  must  provide  a  keeper  for  her.  // 
I  went  into  the  open  fields  where  none  could  hear  me, 
and  laughed  till  the  air  resounded  with  my  shouts ! 

'She  died  next  day.  The  white-headed  old  man 
followed  her  to  the  grave,  and  the  proud  brothers 
dropped  a  tear  over  the  insensible  corpse  of  her  whose 
sufferings  they  had  regarded  in  her  lifetime  with 
muscles  of  iron.  All  this  was  food  for  my  secret 
mirth,  and  I  laughed  behind  the  white  handkerchief 
which  I  held  up  to  my  face,  as  we  rode  home,  till  the 
tears  came  into  my  eyes. 

'But  though  I  had  carried  my  object  and  killed 
her,  I  was  restless  and  disturbed,  and  I  felt  that  be- 
fore long  my  secret  must  be  known.  I  could  not 
hide  the  wild  mirth  and  joy  which  boiled  within  me, 
and  made  me  when  I  was  alone,  at  home,  jump  up 
and  beat  my  hands  together,  and  dance  round  and 
round,  and  roar  aloud.  When  I  went  out,  and  saw 
the  busy  crowds  hurrying  about  the  streets;  or  to  the 
theatre,  and  heard  the  sound  of  music,  and  beheld  the 
people  dancing,  I  felt  such  glee,  that  I  could  have 
rushed  among  them,  and  torn  them  to  pieces  limb 
from  limb,  and  howled  in  transport.  But  I  ground 
my  teeth,  and  struck  my  feet  upon  the  floor,  and 
drove  my  sharp  nails  into  my  hands.  I  kept  it  down ; 
and  no  one  knew  I  was  a  madman  yet. 

'I  remember — though  it 's  one  of  the  last  things  I 
can  remember:  for  now  I  mix  up  realities  with  my 
dreams,  and  having  so  much  to  do,  and  being  always 
hurried  here,  have  no  time  to  separate  the  twos  from 
some  strange  confusion  in  which  they  get  involved— 
I  remember  how  I  let  it  out  at  last.  Ha!  ha!  I  think 
I  see  their  frightened  looks  now,  and  feel  the  ease 
with  which  I  flung  them  from  me,  and  dashed  my 
clenched  fist  into  their  white  faces,  and  then  flew  like 


192  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  wind,  and  left  them  screaming  and  shouting  far 
behind.  The  strength  of  a  giant  comes  upon  me 
when  I  think  of  it.  There — see  how  this  iron  bar 
bends  beneath  my  furious  wrench.  I  could  snap  it 
like  a  twig,  only  there  are  long  galleries  here  with 
many  doors — I  don't  think  I  could  find  my  way  along 
them;  and  even  if  I  could,  I  know  there  are  iron 
gates  below,  which  they  keep  locked  and  barred. 
They  know  what  a  clever  madman  I  have  been,  and 
they  are  proud  to  have  me  here,  to  show. 

'Let  me  see ; — yes,  I  had  been  out.  It  was  late  at 
night  when  I  reached  home,  and  found  the  proudest 
of  the  three  proud  brothers  waiting  to  see  me — urgent 
business,  he  said :  I  recollect  it  well.  I  hated  that  man 
with  all  a  madman's  hate.  Many  and  many  a  time 
had  my  fingers  longed  to  tear  him.  They  told  me 
he  was  there.  I  ran  swiftly  upstairs.  He  had  a 
word  to  say  to  me.  I  dismissed  the  servants.  It  was 
late,  and  we  were  alone  together — for  the  first  time. 

'I  kept  my  eyes  carefully  from  him  at  first,  for  I 
knew  what  he  little  thought — and  I  ^gloried  in  the 
knowledge — that  the  light  of  madness  gleamed  from 
them  like  fire.  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 
He  spoke  at  last.  My  recent  dissipation,  and  strange 
remarks,  made  so  soon  after  his  sister's  death,  were 
an  insult  to  her  memory.  Coupling  together  many 
circumstances  which  had  at  first  escaped  his  observa- 
tion, he  thought  I  had  not  treated  her  well.  He 
wished  to  know  whether  he  was  right  in  inferring 
that  I  meant  to  cast  a  reproach  upon  her  memory,  and 
a  disrespect  upon  her  family.  It  was  due  to  the  uni- 
form he  wore,  to  demand  this  explanation. 

'This  man  had  a  commission  in  the  army — a  com- 
mission, purchased  with  my  money,  and  his  sister's 
misery!  This  was  the  man  who  had  been  foremost 
in  the  plot  to  ensnare  me,  and  grasp  my  wealth. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  193 

This  was  the  man  who  had  been  the  main  instrument 
in  forcing  his  sister  to  wed  me ;  well  knowing  that  her 
heart  was  given  to  that  puling  boy.  Due  to  his  uni- 
form! The  livery  of  his  degradation!  I  turned  my 
eyes  upon  him — I  could  not  help  it — but  I  spoke  not 
a  word. 

'I  saw  the  sudden  change  that  came  upon  him  be- 
neath my  gaze.  He  was  a  bold  man,  but  the  colour 
faded  from  his  face,  and  he  drew  back  his  chair.  I 
dragged  mine  nearer  to  him;  and  as  I  laughed— 
I  was  very  merry  then — I  saw  him  shudder.  I  felt 
the  madness  rising  within  me.  He  was  afraid  of  me. 

*  "You  were  very  fond  of  your  sister  when  she  was 
alive"— I  said— "very." 

'He  looked  uneasily  round  him,  and  I  saw  his  hand 
grasp  the  back  of  his  chair :  but  he  said  nothing. 

'  "You  villain,"  said  I,  "I  found  you  out;  I  discov- 
ered your  hellish  plots  against  me;  I  know  her  heart 
was  fixed  on  some  one  else  before  you  compelled  her 
to  marry  me.  I  know  it — I  know  it." 

'He  jumped  suddenly  from  his  chair,  brandished 
it  aloft,  and  bid  me  stand  back — for  I  took  care  to 
be  getting  closer  to  him  all  the  time  I  spoke. 

'I  screamed  rather  than  talked,  for  I  felt  tumultu- 
ous passions  eddying  through  my  veins,  and  the  old 
spirits  whispering  and  taunting  me  to  tear  his  heart 
out. 

'  "Damn  you,"  said  I,  starting  up,  and  rushing 
upon  him;  "I  killed  her.  I  am  a  madman.  Down 
with  you.  Blood,  blood!  I  will  have  it!" 

'I  turned  aside  with  one  blow  the  chair  he  hurled  at 
me  in  his  terror,  and  closed  with  him;  and  with  a 
heavy  crash  we  rolled  on  the  floor  together. 

'It  was  a  fine  struggle  that;  for  he  was  a  tall  strong 
man,  fighting  for  his  life;  and  I,  a  powerful  mad- 
man, thirsting  to  destroy  him.  I  knew  no  strength 


194  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

could  equal  mine,  and  I  was  right.  Right  again, 
though  a  madman!  His  struggles  grew  fainter, 
knelt  upon  his  chest,  and  clasped  his  brawny  throat 
firmly  with  both  hands.  His  face  grew  purple;  his 
eyes  were  starting  from  his  head,  and  with  protruded 
tongue,  he  seemed  to  mock  me.  I  squeezed  the 
tighter. 

'The  door  was  suddenly  burst  open  with  a  loud 
noise,  and  a  crowd  of  people  rushed  forward,  crying 
aloud  to  each  other  to  secure  the  madman. 

'My  secret  was  out ;  and  my  only  struggle  now  was 
for  liberty  and  freedom.  I  gained  my  feet  before 
a  hand  was  on  me,  threw  myself  among  my  assailants, 
and  cleared  my  way  with  my  strong  arm,  as  if  I  bore 
a  hatchet  in  my  hand,  and  hewed  them  down  before 
me.  I  gained  the  door,  dropped  over  the  banisters, 
and  in  an  instant  was  in  the  street. 

'Straight  and  swift  I  ran,  and  no  one  dared  to 
stop  me.  I  heard  the  noise  of  feet  behind,  and  re- 
doubled my  speed.  It  grew  fainter  and  fainter  in 
the  distance,  and  at  length  died  away  altogether:  but 
on  I  bounded,  through  marsh  and  rivulet,  over  fence 
and  wall,  with  a  wild  shout  which  was  taken  up  by 
the  strange  beings  that  flocked  around  me  on  everj 
side,  and  swelled  the  sound,  till  it  pierced  the  air. 
I  was  borne  upon  the  arms  of  demons  who  swept 
along  upon  the  wind,  and  bore  down  bank  and  hedge 
before  them,  and  spun  me  round  and  round  with  a 
rustle  and  a  speed  that  made  my  head  swim,  until  at 
last  they  threw  me  from  them  with  a  violent  shock, 
and  I  fell  heavily  upon  the  earth.  When  I  woke  I 
found  myself  here — here  in  this  gray  cell  where  the 
sunlight  seldom  comes,  and  the  moon  steals  in,  in 
rays  which  only  serve  to  show  the  dark  shadows  about 
me,  and  that  silent  figure  in  its  old  corner.  When 
I  lie  awake,  I  can  sometimes  hear  strange  shrieks  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  195 

cries  from  distant  parts  of  this  large  place.  What 
they  are,  I  know  not;  but  they  neither  come  from 
that  pale  form,  nor  does  it  regard  them.  For  from 
the  first  shades  of  dusk  till  the  earliest  light  of  morn- 
ing, it  still  stands  motionless  in  the  same  place,  listen- 
ing to  the  music  of  my  iron  chain,  and  watching  my 
gambols  on  my  straw  bed.' 

At  the  end  of  the  manuscript  was  written,  in  an- 
other hand,  this  note : 

[The  unhappy  man  whose  ravings  are  recorded 
above,  was  a  melancholy  instance  of  the  baneful  re- 
sults of  energies  misdirected  in  early  life,  and  excesses 
prolonged  until  their  consequences  could  never  be  re- 
paired. The  thoughtless  riot,  dissipation,  and  de- 
bauchery of  his  younger  days,  produced  fever  and 
delirium.  The  first  effects  of  the  latter  was  the 
strange  delusion,  founded  upon  a  well-known  medi- 
cal theory,  strongly  contended  for  by  some,  and  as 
strongly  contested  by  others,  that  an  hereditary  mad- 
ness existed  in  his  family.  This  produced  a  settled 
gloom,  which  in  time  developed  a  morbid  insanity, 
and  finally  terminated  in  raving  madness.  There  is 
every  reason  to  believe  that  the  events  he  detailed, 
though  distorted  in  the  description  by  his  diseased 
imagination,  really  happened.  It  is  only  matter  of 
wonder  to  those  who  were  acquainted  with  the  vices 
of  his  early  career,  that  his  passions,  when  no  longer 
controlled  by  reason,  did  not  lead  him  to  the  commis- 
sion of  still  more  frightful  deeds.] 

Mr.  Pickwick's  candle  was  just  expiring  in  the 
socket,  as  he  concluded  the  perusal  of  the  old  clergy- 
man's manuscript;  and  when  the  light  went  suddenly 
out,  without  any  previous  flicker  by  way  of  warning, 
it  communicated  a  very  considerable  start  to  his  ex- 
cited frame.  Hastily  throwing  off  such  articles  of 


196  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

clothing  as  he  had  put  on  when  he  rose  from  his  un- 
easy bed,  and  casting  a  fearful  glance  around,  he 
once  more  scrambled  hastily  between  the  sheets,  and 
soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  into  his  chamber 
when  he  awoke,  and  the  morning  was  far  advanced. 
The  gloom  which  had  oppressed  him  on  the  previous 
night  had  disappeared  with  the  dark  shadows  which 
shrouded  the  landscape,  and  his  thoughts  and  feelings 
were  as  light  and  gay  as  the  morning  itself.  After 
a  hearty  breakfast,  the  four  gentlemen  sallied  forth 
to  walk  to  Gravesend,  followed  by  a  man  bearing  the 
stone  in  its  deal  box.  They  reached  that  town  about 
one  o'clock  ( their  luggage  they  had  directed  to  be  for- 
warded to  the  City,  from  Rochester),  and  being  for- 
tunate enough  to  secure  places  on  the  outside  of  a 
coach,  arrived  in  London  in  sound  health  and  spirits, 
on  that  same  afternoon. 

The  next  three  or  four  days  were  occupied  with  the 
preparations  which  were  necessary  for  their  journey 
to  the  borough  of  Eatanswill.  As  any  reference  to 
that  most  important  undertaking  demands  a  separate 
chapter,  we  may  devote  the  few  lines  which  remain 
at  the  close  of  this,  to  narrate,  with  great  brevity,  the 
history  of  the  antiquarian  discovery. 

It  appears  from  the  Transactions  of  the  Club,  then, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  lectured  upon  the  discovery  at  a 
General  Club  Meeting,  convened  on  the  night  suc- 
ceeding their  return,  and  entered  into  a  variety  of 
ingenious  and  erudite  speculations  on  the  meaning 
of  the  inscription.  It  also  appears  that  a  skilful 
artist  executed  a  faithful  delineation  of  the  curiosity, 
which  was  engraven  on  stone,  and  presented  to  the 
Royal  Antiquarian  Society,  and  other  learned  bodies 
— that  heart-burnings  and  jealousies  without  number, 
were  created  by  rival  controversies  which  were  penned 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  197 

upon  the  subject— and  that  Mr.  Pickwick  himself 
wrote  a  Pamphlet,  containing  ninety-six  pages  of 
very  small  print,  and  twenty-seven  different  readings 
of  the  inscription.  ^  That  three  old  gentlemen  cut  off 
their  eldest  sons  with  a  shilling  a-piece  for  presuming 
to  doubt  the  antiquity  of  the  fragment — and  that  one 
enthusiastic  individual  cut  himself  off  prematurely, 
in  despair  at  being  unable  to  fathom  its  meaning. 
That  Mr.  Pickwick  was  elected  an  honorary  member 
of  seventeen  native  and  foreign  societies,  for  making 
the  discovery ;  that  none  of  the  seventeen  could  make 
anything  of  it;  but  that  all  the  seventeen  agreed  it 
was  very  extraordinary. 

Mr.  Blotton,  indeed — and  the  name  will  be  doomed 
to  the  undying  contempt  of  those  who  cultivate  the 
mysterious  and  the  sublime — Mr.  Blotton,  we  say, 
with  the  doubt  and  cavilling  peculiar  to  vulgar  minds, 
presumed  to  state  a  view  of  the  case,  as  degrading  as 
ridiculous.  Mr.  Blotton,  with  a  mean  desire  to 
tarnish  the  lustre  of  the  immortal  name  of  Pickwick, 
actually  undertook  a  journey  to  Cobham  in  person, 
and  on  his  return,  sarcastically  observed  in  an  oration 
at  the  club,  that  he  had  seen  the  man  from  whom  the 
stone  was  purchased;  that  the  man  presumed  the 
stone  to  be  ancient,  but  solemnly  denied  the  antiquity 
of  the  inscription — inasmuch  as  he  represented  it  to 
have  been  rudely  carved  by  himself  in  an  idle  mood, 
and  to  display  letters  intended  to  bear  neither  more 
nor  less  than  the  simple  construction  of — 'BILL 
STUMPS,  HIS  MARK';  and  that  Mr.  Stumps, 
being  little  in  the  habit  of  original  composition,  and 
more  accustomed  to  be  guided  by  the  sound  of  words 
than  by  the  strict  rules  of  orthography,  had  omitted 
the  concluding  'L'  of  his  Christian  name. 

The  Pickwick  Club  (as  might  have  been  expected 
from  so  enlightened  an  Institution)  received  this 


198  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

statement  with  the  contempt  it  deserved,  expelled  the 
presumptuous  and  ill-concQtioned  Blotton,  and  voted 
Mr.  Pickwick  a  pair  of  gold  spectacles,  in  token  of 
their  confidence  and  approbation ;  in  return  for  which 
Mr.  Pickwick  caused  a  portrait  of  himself  to  be 
painted,  and  hung  up  in  the  club  room. 

Mr.  Blotton  though  ejected  was  not  conquered. 
He  also  wrote  a  pamphlet,  addressed  to  the  seventeen 
learned  societies,  native  and  foreign,  containing  a 
repetition  of  the  statement  he  had  already  made,  and 
rather  more  than  half  intimating  his  opinion  that  the 
seventeen  learned  societies  were  so  many  'humbugs.' 
tlereupon  the  virtuous  indignation  of  the  seventeen 
learned  societies,  native  and  foreign,  being  roused, 
several  fresh  pamphlets  appeared;  the  foreign  learned 
societies  corresponded  with  the  native  learned  soci- 
eties; the  native  learned  societies  translated  the  pam- 
phlets of  the  foreign  learned  societies  into  English; 
the  foreign  learned  societies  translated  the  pamphlets 
of  the  native  learned  societies  into  all  sorts  of  lan- 
guages ;  and  thus  commenced  that  celebrated  scientific 
discussion  so  well  known  to  all  men  as  the  Pickwick 
controversy. 

But  this  base  attempt  to  injure  Mr.  Pickwick,  re- 
coiled upon  the  head  of  its  calumnious  author.  The 
seventeen  learned  societies  unanimously  voted  the 
presumptuous  Blotton  an  ignorant  meddler,  and 
forthwith  set  to  work  upon  more  treatises  than  ever. 
And  to  this  day  the  stone  remains,  an  illegible  monu- 
ment of  Mr.  Pickwick's  greatness,  and  a  lasting 
trophy  to  the  littleness  of  his  enemies. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  199 


CHAPTER  XII 

DESCRIPTIVE  OF  A  VERY  IMPORTANT  PROCEEDING  ON 
THE  PART  OF  MR.  PICKWICK ;  NO  LESS  AN  EPOCH  IN 
HIS  LIFE,  THAN  IN  THIS  HISTORY 

MR.  PICKWICK'S  apartments  in  Goswell  Street,  al- 
though on  a  limited  scale,  were  not  only  of  a  very  neat 
and  comfortable  description,  but  peculiarly  adapted 
for  the  residence  of  a  man  of  his  genius  and  observa- 
tion. His  sitting-room  was  the  first-floor  front,  his 
bed-room  the  second-floor  front;  and  thus,  whether 
he  was  sitting  at  his  desk  in  his  parlour,  or  standing 
before  the  dressing-glass  in  his  dormitory,  he  had  an 
equal  opportunity  of  contemplating  human  nature 
in  all  the  numerous  phases  it  exhibits,  in  that  not 
more  populous  than  popular  thoroughfare.  His 
landlady,  Mrs.  Bardell — the  relict  and  sole  executrix 
of  a  deceased  custom-house  officer — was  a  comely 
woman  of  bustling  manners  and  agreeable  appear- 
ance, with  a  natural  genius  for  cooking,  improved 
by  study  and  long  practice,  into  an  exquisite  talent. 
There  were  no  children,  no  servants,  no  fowls.  The 
only  other  inmates  of  the  house  were  a  large  man 
and  a  small  boy;  the  first  a  lodger,  the  second  a  pro- 
duction of  Mrs.  Bardell's.  The  large  man  was  al- 
ways home  precisely  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  at  which 
hour  he  regularly  condensed  himself  into  the  limits 
of  a  dwarfish  French  bedstead  in  the  back  parlour; 
and  the  infantine  sports  and  gymnastic  exercises  of 
Master  Bardell  were  exclusively  confined  to  the 
neighbouring  pavements  and  gutters.  Cleanliness 
and  quiet  reigned  throughout  the  house;  and  in  it 
Mr.  Pickwick's  will  was  law. 

To  any  one  acquainted  with  these  points  of  the  do- 


200  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

mestic  economy  of  the  establishment,  and  conversant 
with  the  admirable  regulation  of  Mr,  Pickwick's 
mind,  his  appearance  and  behaviour  on  the  morning 
previous  to  that  which  had  been  fixed  upon  for  the 
journey  to  Eatanswill,  would  have  been  most  mys- 
terious and  unaccountable.  He  paced  the  room  to 
and  fro  with  hurried  steps,  popped  his  head  out  of 
the  window  at  intervals  of  about  three  minutes  each, 
constantly  referred  to  his  watch,  and  exhibited  many 
other  manifestations  of  impatience  very  unusual  with 
him.  It  was  evident  that  something  of  great  impor- 
tance was  in  contemplation,  but  what  that  something 
was,  not  even  Mrs.  Bardell  herself  had  been  enabled 
to  discover. 

'Mrs.  Bardell,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  last,  as  that 
amiable  female  approached  the  termination  of  a  pro- 
longed dusting  of  the  apartment — 

'Sir,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'Your  little  boy  is  a  very  long  time  gone.' 

'Why  it 's  a  good  long  way  to  the  Borough,  sir,' 
remonstrated  Mrs.  Bardell.  » 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'very  true ;  so  it  is.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell resumed  her  dusting. 

'Mrs.  Bardell,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  the  expiration 
of  a  few  minutes. 

'Sir/  said  Mrs.  Bardell  again. 

'Do  you  think  it  a  much  greater  expense  to  keep 
two  people,  than  to  keep  one?' 

'La,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  colouring 
up  to  the  very  border  of  her  cap,  as  she  fancied  she 
observed  a  species  of  matrimonial  twinkle  in  the  eyes 
of  her  lodger;  'La,  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  a  question!' 

Well,  but  do  you?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'That  depends-'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  approaching 
the  duster  very  near  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  elbow,  which 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  201 

was  planted  on  the  table — 'that  depends  a  good  deal 
upon  the  person,  you  know,  Mr.  Pickwick;  and 
whether  it 's  a  saving  and  careful  person,  sir.' 

'That's  very  true,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'but  the 
person  I  have  in  my  eye  (here  he  looked  very  hard  at 
Mrs.  Bardell)  I  think  possesses  these  qualities;  and 
has,  moreover,  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the  world, 
and  a  great  deal  of  sharpness,  Mrs.  Bardell;  which 
may  be  of  material  use  to  me.' 

'La,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell;  the  crimson 
rising  to  her  cap-border  again. 

'I  do,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  energetic,  as 
was  his  wont  in  speaking  of  a  subject  which  inter- 
ested him,  'I  do  indeed;  and  to  tell  the  truth,  Mrs. 
Bardell,  I  have  made  up  my  mind.' 

'Dear  me,  sir,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'You  '11  think  it  very  strange  now,'  said  the  ami- 
able Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  good-humoured  glance  at 
his  companion,  'that  I  never  consulted  you  about  this 
matter,  and  never  even  mentioned  it,  till  I  sent  your 
little  boy  out  this  morning — eh?' 

Mrs.  Bardell  could  only  reply  by  a  look.  She  had 
long  worshipped  Mr.  Pickwick  at  a  distance,  but  here 
she  was,  all  at  once,  raised  to  a  pinnacle  to  which  her 
wildest  and  most  extravagant  hopes  had  never  dared 
to  aspire.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  going  to  propose — a 
deliberate  plan,  too — sent  her  little  boy  to  the  "Bor- 
ough, to  get  him  out  of  the  way — how  thoughtful — 
how  considerate! 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'what  do  you  think?' 

'Oh,  Mr.  Pickwick/  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  trembling 
with  agitation,  'you  're  very  kind,  sir.' 

'It'll  save  you  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  won't  it?' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Oh,  I  never  thought  anything  of  the  trouble,  sir,' 
replied  Mrs.  Bardell;  'and,  of  course,  I  should  take 


202  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

more  trouble  to  please  you  then,  than  ever;  but  it  is 
so  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  have  so  much  con- 
sideration for  my  loneliness.' 

'Ah,  to  be  sure,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'I  never 
thought  of  that.  When  I  am  in  town,  you  '11  always 
have  somebody  to  sit  with  you.  To  be  sure,  so  you 
will.' 

'I  'm  sure  I  ought  to  be  a  very  happy  woman,'  said 
Mrs.  Bardell. 

'And  your  little  boy — '  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Bless  his  heart!'  interposed  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a 
maternal  sob. 

'He,  too,  will  have  a  companion,'  resumed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'a  lively  one,  who  11  teach  him,  I  '11  be  bound, 
more  tricks  in  a  week  than  he  would  ever  learn  in  a 
year.'  And  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  placidly. 

'Oh  you  dear — '  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

Mr.  Pickwick  started. 

'Oh  you  kind,  good,  playful  dear,'  said  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell; and  without  more  ado,  she  rose  from  her  chair, 
and  flung  her  arms  round  Mr.  Pickwick's  neck,  with 
a  cataract  of  tears  and  a  chorus  of  sobs. 

'Bless  my  soul,'  cried  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick ; 
'Mrs.  Bardell,  my  good  woman— dear  me,  what  a  sit- 
uation— pray  consider. — Mrs.  Bardell,  don't— if  any- 
body should  come — ' 

'Oh,  let  them  come,'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell,  fran- 
tically ;  'I  '11  never  leave  you — dear,  kind,  good  soul' ; 
and,  with  these  words,  Mrs.  Bardell  clung  the  tighter. 

'Mercy  upon  me,'  said  M"r.  Pickwick,  struggling 
violently,  'I  hear  somebody  coming  up  the  stairs. 
Don't,  don't,  there's  a  good  creature,  don't.'  But 
entreaty  and  remonstrance  were  alike  unavailing:  for 
Mrs.  Bardell  had  fainted  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  arms; 
and  before  he  could  gain  time  to  deposit  her  on  a 


AJ»  '        / 

j'^  It*  • 
MRS.    BARDELL    FAINTS    IN    MR.    PICKWICK'S    ARMS. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  203 

chair,  Master  Bardell  entered  the  room,  ushering  in 
Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  struck  motionless  and  speechless. 
He  stood  with  his  lovely  burden  in  his  arms,  gazing 
vacantly  on  the  countenances  of  his  friends,  without 
the  slightest  attempt  at  recognition  or  explanation/ 
They,  in  their  turn,  stared  at  him;  and  Master  Bar- 
dell,  in  his  turn,  stared  at  everybody. 

The  astonishment  of  the  Pickwickians  was  so  ab- 
sorbing, and  the  perplexity  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  so 
extreme,  that  they  might  have  remained  in  exactly 
the  same  relative  situations  until  the  suspended  ani- 
mation of  the  lady  was  restored,  had  it  not  been  for 
a  most  beautiful  and  touching  expression  of  filial 
affection  on  the  part  of  her  youthful  son.  Clad  in 
a  tight  suit  of  corduroy,  spangled  with  brass  buttons 
of  a  very  considerable  size,  he  at  first  stood  at  the 
door  astounded  and  uncertain;  but  by  degrees,  the 
impression  that  his  mother  must  have  suffered  some 
personal  damage,  pervaded  his  partially  developed 
mind,  and  considering  Mr.  Pickwick  as  the  aggressor, 
he  set  up  an  appalling  and  semi-earthly  kind  of  howl- 
ing, and  butting  forward  with  his  head,  commenced 
assailing  that  immortal  gentleman  about  the  back 
and  legs,  with  such  blows  and  pinches  as  the  strength 
of  his  arm,  and  the  violence  of  his  excitement,  allowed. 

'Take  this  little  villain  away,'  said  the  agonised 
Mr.  Pickwick,  'he  's  mad.' 

'What  is  the  matter?'  said  the  three  tongue-tied 
Pickwickians. 

'I  don't  know,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  pettishly. 
'Take  away  the  boy'  (here  Mr.  Winkle  carried  the  in- 
teresting boy,  screaming  and  struggling,  to  the 
further  end  of  the  apartment) .  'Now,  help  me,  lead 
this  woman  downstairs.' 


204  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Oh,  I  am  better  now,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  faintly. 

'Let  me  lead  you  downstairs,'  said  the  ever  gallant 
Mr.  Tupman. 

'Thank  you,  sir — thank  you,'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell,  hysterically.     And  downstairs  she  was  led  ac- 
•  cordingly,  accompanied  by  her  affectionate  son. 

'I  cannot  conceive — '  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  his 
friend  returned — 'I  cannot  conceive  what  has  been 
the  matter  with  that  woman.  I  had  merely  announced 
to  her  my  intention  of  keeping  a  man  servant,  when 
she  fell  into  the  extraordinary  paroxysm  in  which  you 
found  her.  Very  extraordinary  thing.' 

'Very,'  said  his  three  friends. 

'Placed  me  in  such  an  extremely  awkward  situa- 
tion,' continued  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Very,'  was  the  reply  of  his  followers,  as  they 
coughed  slightly,  and  looked  dubiously  at  each  other. 

This  behaviour  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick. 
He  remarked  their  incredulity.  They  evidently  sus- 
pected him. 

'There  is  a  man  in  the  passage  now/  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man. 

'It 's  the  man  I  spoke  to  you  about/  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'I  sent  for  him  to  the  Borough  this  morning. 
Have  the  goodness  to  call  him  up,  Snodgrass.' 

Mr.  Snodgrass  did  as  he  was  desired;  and  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  forthwith  presented  himself. 

'Oh— you  remember  me,  I  suppose?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'I  should  think  so/  replied  Sam,  with  a  patronising 
wink.  'Queer  start  that  'ere,  but  he  was  one  too 
many  for  you,  warn't  he?  Up  to  snuff  and  a  pinch 
or  two  over — eh  ?' 

'Never  mind  that  matter  now/  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hastily.  'I  want  to  speak  *o  you  about  something 
else.  Sit  down.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  205 

'Thank  'ee,  sir,'  said  Sam.  And  down  he  sat  with- 
out farther  bidding,  having  previously  deposited  his 
old  white  hat  on  the  landing  outside  the  door. 

'Tan't  a  wery  good  'un  to  look  at/  said  Sam,  'but 
it's  an  astonishin'  'un  to  wear;  and  afore  the  brim 
went,  it  was  a  wery  handsome  tile.  Hows'ever  it 's 
lighter  without  it,  that 's  one  thing,  and  every  hole 
lets  in  some  air,  that 's  another — wentilation  gossamer 
I  calls  it.'  On  the  delivery  of  this  sentiment,  Mr. 
Weller  smiled  agreeably  upon  the  assembled  Pick- 
wickians. 

'Now  with  regard  to  the  matter  on  which  I,  with 
the  concurrence  of  these  gentlemen,  sent  for  you,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'That 's  the  pint,  sir,'  interposed  Sam;  'out  vith  it, 
as  the  father  said  to  the  child,  wen  he  swallowed  a 
farden.' 

'We  want  to  know,  in  the  first  place,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'whether  you  have  any  reason  to  be  discontented 
with  your  present  situation.' 

'Afore  I  answers  that  'ere  question,  genTm'n,'  re- 
plied Mr.  Weller,  'I  should  like  to  know,  in  the  first 
place,  whether  you  're  a-goin'  to  purwide  me  with  a 
better.' 

A  sunbeam  of  placid  benevolence  played  on  Mr. 
Pickwick's  features  as  he  said,  'I  have  half  made  up 
my  mind  to  engage  you  myself.' 

'Have  you,  though?'  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

'Wages?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Twelve  pounds  a  year,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Clothes?' 

'Two  suits?' 

'Work?' 

'To  attend  upon  me;  and  travel  about  with  me  and 
these  gentlemen  here.' 


206  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Take  the  bill  down,'  said  Sam,  emphatically.  'I  'm 
let  to  a  single  gentleman,  and  the  terms  is  agreed 

upon.' 

'You  accept  the  situation?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Cert'nly,'  replied  Sam.  'If  the  clothes  fits  me  half 
as  well  as  the  place,  they  '11  do.' 

'You  can  get  a  character,  of  course?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Ask  the  landlady  o'  the  White  Hart  about  that, 
sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'Can  you  come  this  evening?' 

'I  '11  get  into  the  clothes  this  minute,  if  they  're 
here,'  said  Sam,  with  great  alacrity. 

'Call  at  eight  this  evening,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick; 
'and  if  the  inquiries  are  satisfactory,  they  shall  be 
provided.' 

With  the  single  exception  of  one  amiable  indis- 
cretion, in  which  an  assistant  housemaid  had  equally 
participated,  the  history  of  Mr.  Weller's  conduct  was 
so  very  blameless,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  fully  justi- 
fied in  closing  the  engagement  that  \  very  evening. 
With  the  promptness  and  energy  which  character- 
ised not  only  the  public  proceedings,  but  all  the  private 
actions  of  this  extraordinary  man,  he  at  once  led  his 
new  attendant  to  one  of  those  convenient  emporiums 
where  gentlemen's  new  and  second-hand  clothes  are 
provided,  and  the  troublesome  and  inconvenient  for- 
mality of  measurement  dispensed  with;  and  before 
night  had  closed  in,  Mr.  Weller  was  furnished  with  a 
grey  coat  with  the  P.  C.  button,  a  black  hat  with  a 
cockade  to  it,  a  pink  striped  waistcoat,  light  breeches 
and  gaiters,  and  a  variety  of  other  necessaries,  too 
numerous  to  recapitulate. 

'Well,'  said  that  suddenly-transformed  individual, 
as  he  took  his  seat  on  the  outside  of  the  Eatanswill 
coach  next  morning;  'I  wonder  whether  I  'm  meant 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  207 

to  be  a  footman,  or  a  groom,  or  a  gamekeeper,  or  a 
seedsman.  I  looks  like  a  sort  of  compo  of  every  one 
on  'em.  Never  mind:  there's  change  of  air,  plenty 
to  see,  and  little  to  do ;  and  all  this  suits  my  complaint 
uncommon ;  so  long  life  to  the  Pickvick's,  says  I !' 


CHAPTER  XIII 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  EATAN SWILL ;  OF  THE  STATE  OF  PAR 
TIES  THEREIN ;  AND  OF  THE  ELECTION  OF  A  MEMBER 
TO  SERVE  IN  PARLIAMENT  FOR  THAT  ANCIENT,  LOYAL, 
AND    PATRIOTIC    BOROUGH 

WE  will  frankly  acknowledge,  that  up  to  the  period 
of  our  being  first  immersed  in  the  voluminous  papers 
of  the  Pickwick  Club,  we  had  never  heard  of  Eatans- 
will;  we  will  with  equal  candour  admit,  that  we  have 
in  vain  searched  for  proof  of  the  actual  existence  of 
such  a  place  at  the  present  day.  Knowing  the  deep 
reliance  to  be  placed  on  every  note  and  statement  of 
Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  not  presuming  to  set  up  our 
recollection  against  the  recorded  declarations  of  that 
great  man,  we  have  consulted  every  authority,  bear- 
ing upon  the  subject,  to  which  we  could  possibly  refer. 
We  have  traced  every  name  in  Schedules  A  and  B, 
without  meeting  with  that  of  Eatanswill;  we  have 
minutely  examined  every  corner  of  the  Pocket  County 
Maps  issued  for  the  benefit  of  society  by  our  distin- 
guished publishers,  and  the  same  result  has  attended 
our  investigation.  We  are  therefore  led  to  believe, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  that  anxious  desire  to  abstain 
from  giving  offence  to  any,  and  with  those  delicate 
feelings  for  which  all  who  knew  him  well  know  he 
was  so  eminently  remarkable,  purposely  substituted  a 
fictitious  designation,  for  the  real  name  of  the  place 


208  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

in  which  his  observations  were  made.  We  are  con- 
firmed in  this  belief  by  a  little  circumstance,  appar- 
ently slight  and  trivial  in  itself,  but  when  considered 
in  this  point  of  view,  not  undeserving  of  notice.  In 
Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book,  we  can  just  trace  an  entry 
of  the  fact,  that  the  places  of  himself  and  followers 
were  booked  by  the  Norwich  coach ;  but  this  entry  was 
afterwards  lined  through,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of 
concealing  even  the  direction  in  which  the  borough 
is  situated.  We  will  not,  therefore,  hazard  a  guess 
upon  the  subject,  but  will  at  once  proceed  with  this 
history;  content  with  the  materials  which  its  characters 
have  provided  for  us. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  Eatanswill  people,  like 
the  people  of  many  other  small  towns,  considered 
themselves  of  the  utmost  and  most  mighty  importance, 
and  that  every  man  in  Eatanswill,  conscious  of  the 
weight  that  attached  to  his  example,  felt  himself 
bound  to  unite,  heart  and  soul,  with  one  of  the  two 
great  parties  that  divided  the  town — the  Blues  and 
the  Buffs.  Now  the  Blues  lost  no  opportunity  of 
opposing  the  Buffs,  and  the  Buffs  lost  no  opportunity 
of  opposing  the  Blues ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that 
whenever  the  Buffs  and  Blues  met  together  at  public 
meeting,  Town-Hall,  fair,  or  market,  disputes  and 
high  words  arose  between  them.  With  these  dis- 
sensions it  is  almost  superfluous  to  say  that  every- 
thing in  Eatanswill  was  made  a  party  question.  If 
the  Buffs  proposed  to  new  skylight  the  market-place, 
the  Blues  got  up  public  meetings,  and  denounced  the 
proceeding;  if  the  Blues  proposed  the  erection  of  an 
additional  pump  in  the  High  Street,  the  Buffs  rose 
as  one  man  and  stood  aghast  at  the  enormity.  There 
were  Blue  shops  and  Buff  shops,  Blue  inns  and  Buff 
inns ; — there  was  a  Blue  aisle  and  a  Buff  aisle,  in  the 
very  church  itself. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  209 

Of  course  it  was  essentially  and  indispensably  neces- 
sary that  each  of  these  powerful  parties  should  have 
its  chosen  organ  and  representative:  and  accordingly, 
there  were  two  newspapers  in  the  town — the  Eatans- 
will  Gazette  and  the  Eatanswill  Independent;  the 
former  advocating  Blue  principles,  and  the  latter  con- 
ducted on  grounds  decidedly  Buff.  Fine  newspapers 
they  were.  Such  leading  articles,  and  such  spirited 
attacks! — 'Our  worthless  contemporary,  the  Gazette' 
— 'That  disgraceful  and  dastardly  journal,  the  Inde- 
pendent'— 'That  false  and  scurrilous  print,  the 
Independent' — 'That  vile  and  slanderous  calumniator, 
the  Gazette';  these,  and  other  spirit-stirring  denun- 
ciations were  strewn  plentifully  over  the  columns  of 
each,  in  every  number,  and  excited  feelings  of  the  most 
intense  delight  and  indignation  in  the  bosoms  of  the 
townspeople. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  usual  foresight  and  sagacity, 
had  chosen  a  peculiarly  desirable  moment  for  his  visit 
to  the  borough.  Never  was  such  a  contest  known. 
The  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall, 
was  the  Blue  candidate;  and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esq.,  of 
Fizkin  Lodge,  near  Eatanswill,  had  been  prevailed 
upon  by  his  friends  to  stand  forward  on  the  Buff  in- 
terest. The  Gazette  warned  the  electors  of  Eatans- 
will that  the  eyes  not  only  of  England,  but  of  the 
whole  civilised  world,  were  upon  them;  and  the  Inde- 
pendent imperatively  demanded  to  know,  whether  the 
constituency  of  Eatanswill  were  the  grand  fellows 
they  had  always  taken  them  for,  or  base  and  servile 
tools,  undeserving  alike  of  the  name  of  Englishmen 
and  the  blessings  of  freedom.  Never  has  such  a  com- 
motion agitated  the  town  before. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
his  companions,  assisted  by  Sam,  dismounted  from 
the  roof  of  the  Eatanswill  coach.  Large  blue  silk 


210          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

flags  were  flying  from  the  windows  of  the  Town  Arms 
Inn,  and  bills  were  posted  in  every  sash,  intimating,  in 
gigantic  letters,  that  the  honourable  Samuel  Slum- 
key's  Committee  sat  there  daily.  A  crowd  of  idlers 
were  assembled  in  the  road,  looking  at  a  hoarse  man  in 
the  balcony,  who  was  apparently  talking  himself  very 
red  in  the  face  in  Mr.  Slumkey's  behalf ;  but  the  force 
and  point  of  whose  arguments  were  somewhat  im- 
paired by  the  perpetual  beating  of  four  large  drums 
which  Mr.  Fizkin's  committee  had  stationed  at  the 
street  corner.  There  was  a  busy  little  man  beside 
him,  though,  who  took  off  his  hat  at  intervals  and 
motioned  to  the  people  to  cheer,  which  they  regularly 
did,  most  enthusiastically;  and  as  the  red- faced  gen- 
tleman went  on  talking  till  he  was  redder  in  the  face 
than  ever,  it  seemed  to  answer  his  purpose  quite  as  well 
as  if  anybody  had  heard  him. 

The  Pickwickians  had  no  sooner  dismounted,  than 
they  were  surrounded  by  a  branch  mob  of  the  honest 
and  independent,  who  forthwith  set  up  three  deafen- 
ing cheers,  which  being  responded  io  by  the  main 
body  (for  it 's  not  at  all  necessary  for  a  crowd  to 
know  what  they  are  cheering  about)  swelle'd  into  a 
tremendous  roar  of  triumph,  which  stopped  even  the 
red-faced  man  in  the  balcony. 

'Hurrah !'  shouted  the  mob  in  conclusion. 

'One  cheer  more,'  screamed  the  little  fugleman  in 
the  balcony,  and  out  shouted  the  mob  again,  as  if  lungs 
were  cast  iron,  with  steel  works. 

'Slumkey  for  ever!'  roared  the  honest  and  inde- 
pendent. 

'Slumkey  for  ever!'  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking 
off  his  hat. 

'No  Fizkin !'  roared  the  crowd. 

'Certainly  not !'  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Hurrah!'     And  then  there  was  another  roaring, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  211 

like  that  of  a  whole  menagerie  when  the  elephant  has 
rung  the  bell  for  the  cold  meat. 

'Who  is  Slumkey?'  whispered  Mr.  Tupman. 

'I  don't  know,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  same 
tone.  'Hush.  Don't  ask  any  questions.  It 's  always 
best  on  these  occasions  to  do  what  the  mob  do.' 

'But  suppose  there  are  two  mobs?'  suggested  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

'Shout  with  the  largest,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Volumes  could  not  have  said  more. 

They  entered  the  house,  the  crowd  opening  right 
and  left  to  let  them  pass,  and  cheering  vociferously. 
The  first  object  of  consideration  was  to  secure  quarters 
for  the  night. 

'Can  we  have  beds  here?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
summoning  the  waiter. 

'Don't  know,  sir,'  replied  the  man ;  'afraid  we  're 
full,  sir — I  '11  inquire,  sir.'  Away  he  went  for  that 
purpose,  and  presently  returned,  to  ask  whether  the 
gentlemen  were  'Blue.' 

As  neither  Mr.  Pickwick  nor  his  companions  took 
any  vital  interest  in  the  cause  of  either  candidate,  the 
question  was  rather  a  difficult  one  to  answer.  In  this 
dilemma  Mr.  Pickwick  bethought  himself  of  his 
new  friend,  Mr.  Perker. 

'Do  you  know  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Perker?' 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Certainly,  sir;  Honourable  Mr.  Samuel  Slumkey's 
agent.' 

'He  is  Blue,  I  think?' 

'Oh  yes,  sir.' 

'Then  we  are  Blue,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  but  ob- 
serving that  the  man  looked  rather  doubtful  at  this 
accommodating  announcement,  he  gave  him  his  card, 
and  desired  him  to  present  it  to  Mr.  Perker  forthwith, 
if  he  should  happen  to  be  in  the  house.  The  waiter 


212  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

retired;  and  re-appearing  almost  immediately  with  a 
request  that  Mr.  Pickwick  would  follow  him,  led  the 
way  to  a  large  room  on  the  first  floor,  where,  seated  at 
a  long  table  covered  with  books  and  papers,  was  Mr. 
Perker. 

'Ah — ah,  my  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man,  ad- 
vancing to  meet  him;  'very  happy  to  see  you,  my 
dear  sir,  very.  Pray  sit  down.  So  you  have  carried 
your  intention  into  effect.  You  have  come  down 
here  to  see  an  election — eh  ?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

'Spirited  contest,  my  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man. 

'I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
rubbing  his  hands.  'I  like  to  see  sturdy  patriotism, 
on  whatever  side  it  is  called  forth ; — and  so  it's  a  spir- 
ited contest?' 

'Oh  yes,'  said  the  little  man,  Very  much  so  indeed. 
We  have  opened  all  the  public-houses  in  the  place,  and 
left  our  adversary  nothing  but  the  beer-shops — mas- 
terly stroke  of  policy  that,  my  dear  sir,  eh?' — the 
little  man  smiled  complacently,  and  took  a  large  pinch 
of  snuff. 

'And  what  are  the  probabilities  as  to  the  result  of 
the  contest  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Why,  doubtful,  my  dear  sir;  rather  doubtful  as 
yet/  replied  the  little  man.  'Fizkin's  people  have  got 
three-and-thirty  voters  in  the  lock-up  coach-house  at 
the  White  Hart.' 

'In  the  coach-house!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considera- 
bly astonished  by  this  second  stroke  of  policy. 

'They  keep  'em  locked  up  there  till  they  want  'em,' 
resumed  the  little  man.  'The  effect  of  that  is,  you 
see,  to  prevent  our  getting  at  them;  and  even  if  we 
could,  it  would  be  of  no  use,  for  they  keep  them  very 
drunk  on  purpose.  Smart  fellow  Fizkin's  agent— 
very  smart  fellow  indeed.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          213 

Mr.  Pickwick  stared,  but  said  nothing. 

'We  are  pretty  confident,  though,'  said  Mr.  Perker, 
sinking  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper.  'We  had  a 
little  tea-party  here,  last  night — five-and-forty 
women,  my  dear  sir — and  gave  every  one  of  'em  a 
green  parasol  when  she  went  away.' 

'A  parasol !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Fact,  my  dear  sir,  fact.  Five-and-forty  green 
parasols,  at  seven-and-sixpence  a-piece.  All  women 
like  finery, — extraordinary  the  effect  of  those  para- 
sols. Secured  all  their  husbands,  and  half  their 
brothers — beats  stockings,  and  flannel,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing  hollow.  My  idea,  my  dear  sir,  entirely. 
Hail,  rain,  or  sunshine,  you  can't  walk  half  a  dozen 
yards  up  the  street,  without  encountering  half  a  dozen 
green  parasols.' 

Here  the  little  man  indulged  in  a  convulsion  of 
mirth,  which  was  only  checked  by  the  entrance  of  a 
third  party. 

This  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  sandy-coloured 
head  inclined  to  baldness,  and  a  face  in  which  solemn 
importance  was  blended  with  a  look  of  unfathomable 
profundity.  He  was  dressed  in  a  long  brown  surt- 
out,  with  a  black  cloth  waistcoat,  and  drab  trousers. 
A  double  eye-glass  dangled  at  his  waistcoat ;  and  on  his 
head  he  wore  a  very  low-crowned  hat  with  a  broad 
brim.  The  new  comer  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick as  Mr.  Pott,  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 
After  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  Mr.  Pott  turned 
round  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said  with  solemnity— 

'This  contest  excites  great  interest  in  the  metrop- 
olis, sir?? 

'I  believe  it  does,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'To  which  I  have  reason  to  know,'  said  Pott,  looking 
towards  Mr.  Perker  for  corroboration, — 'to  which  I 


214 

have  reason  to  know  that  my  article  of  last  Saturday  in 
some  degree  contributed.' 

'Not  the  least  doubt  of  it,'  said  the  little  man. 

'The  press  is  a  mighty  engine,  sir,'  said  Pott. 

Mr.  Pickwick  yielded  his  fullest  assent  to  the 
proposition. 

'But  I  trust,  sir,'  said  Pott,  'that  I  have  never 
abused  the  enormous  power  I  wield.  I  trust,  sir, 
that  I  have  never  pointed  the  noble  instrument  which 
is  placed  in  my  hands,  against  the  sacred  bosom  of 
private  life,  or  the  tender  breast  of  individual  repu- 
tation;— I  trust,  sir,  that  I  have  devoted  my  energies 
to — to  endeavours — humble  they  may  be,  humble  I 
know  they  are — to  instil  those  principles  of — which— 
are — ' 

Here  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  appear- 
ing to  ramble,  Mr.  Pickwick  came  to  his  relief,  and 
said— 

'Certainly.' 

'And  what,  sir,' — said  Pott — 'what,  sir,  let  me  ask 
you  as  an  impartial  man,  is  the  state  of  the  public 
mind  in  London,  with  reference  to  my  contest  with  the 
Independent?' 

'Greatly  excited,  no  doubt,'  interposed  Mr.  Perker, 
with  a  look  of  slyness  which  was  very  likely  accidental. 

'The  contest,'  said  Pott,  'shall  be  prolonged  so  long 
as  I  have  health  and  strength,  and  that  portion  of 
talent  with  which  I  am  gifted.  From  that  contest, 
sir,  although  it  may  unsettle  men's  minds  and  excite 
their  feelings,  and  render  them  incapable  for  the  dis- 
charge of  the  every-day  duties  of  ordinary  life;  from 
that  contest,  sir,  I  will  never  shrink,  till  I  have  set 
my  heel  upon  the  Eatanswill  Independent.  I  wish 
the  people  of  London,  and  the  people  of  this  country 
to  know,  sir,  that  they  may  rely  upon  me;— that  I  will 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  215 

not  desert  them,  that  I  am  resolved  to  stand  by  them, 
sir,  to  the  last.' 

'Your  conduct  is  most  noble,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; and  he  grasped  the  hand  of  the  magnanimous 
Pott. 

'You  are,  sir,  I  perceive,  a  man  of  sense  and  talent,' 
said  Mr.  Pott,  almost  breathless  with  the  vehemence 
of  his  patriotic  declaration.  'I  am  most  happy,  sir,  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  such  a  man.' 

'And  I,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'feel  deeply  hon- 
oured by  this  expression  of  your  opinion.  Allow  me, 
sir,  to  introduce  you  to  my  fellow-travellers,  the  other 
corresponding  members  of  the  club  I  am  proud  to 
have  founded.' 

'I  shall  be  delighted,'  said  Mr.  Pott. 

Mr.  Pickwick  withdrew,  and  returning  with  his 
friends,  presented  them  in  due  form  to  the  editor  of 
the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

'Now,  my  dear  Pott,'  said  little  Mr.  Perker, 
'the  question  is,  what  are  we  to  do  with  our  friends 
here?' 

'We  can  stop  in  this  house,  I  suppose,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Xot  a  spare  bed  in  the  house,  my  dear  sir — not  a 
single  bed.' 

'Extremely  awkward,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Very,'  said  his  fellow-voyagers. 

'I  have  an  idea  upon  this  subject,'  said  Mr.  Pott, 
'which  I  think  may  be  very  successfully  adopted. 
They  have  two  beds"  at  the  Peacock,  and  I  can  boldly 
say, 'on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Pott,  that  she  will  be  delighted 
to  accommodate  Mr.  Pickwick  and  any  of  his  friends, 
if  the  other  two  gentlemen  and  their  servant  do  ^  not 
object  to  shifting,  as  they  best  can,  at  the  Peacock.' 

After  repeated  pressings  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pott, 


216  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  repeated  protestations  on  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick 
that  he  could  not  think  of  incommoding  or  troubling 
his  amiable  wife,  it  was  decided  that  it  was  the  only 
feasible  arrangement  that  could  be  made.  So  it  was 
made;  and  after  dining  together  at  the  Town  Arms, 
the  friends  separated,  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  repairing  to  the  Peacock,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Winkle  proceeding  to  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Pott; 
it  having  been  previously  arranged  that  they  should 
all  re-assemble  at  the  Town  Arms  in  the  morning,  and 
accompany  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey's  pro- 
cession to  the  place  of  nomination. 

Mr.  Pott's  domestic  circle  was  limited  to  himself  and 
his  wife.  All  men  whom  mighty  genius  has  raised 
to  a  proud  eminence  in  the  world,  have  usually  some 
little  weakness  which  appears  the  more  conspicuous 
from  the  contrast  it  presents  to  their  general  char- 
acter. If  Mr.  Pott  had  a  weakness,  it  was,  perhaps, 
that  he  was  rather  too  submissive  to  the  somewhat  con- 
temptuous control  and  sway  of  his  wife.  We  do  not 
feel  justified  in  laying  any  particular  stress  upon  the 
fact,  because  on  the  present  occasion  all  Mrs.  Pott's 
most  winning  ways  were  brought  into  requisition  to 
receive  the  two  gentlemen. 

'My  dear/  said  Mr.  Pott,  'Mr.  Pickwick — Mr. 
Pickwick  of  London.' 

Mrs.  Pott  received  Mr.  Pickwick's  paternal  grasp 
of  the  hand  with  enchanting  sweetness:  and  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  had  not  been  announced  at  all,  slided 
and  bowed,  unnoticed,  in  an  obscure  corner. 

'P.,  my  dear — '  said  Mrs.  Pott. 

'My  life,'  said  Mr.  Pott. 

'Pray  introduce  the  other  gentleman.' 

'I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,'  said  Mr.  Pott.  'Per- 
mit me,  Mrs.  Pott,  Mr.  - 

'Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  217 

'Winkle,'  echoed  Mr.  Pott;  and  the  ceremony  of 
introduction  was  complete. 

'We  owe  you  many  apologies,  ma'am,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  'for  disturbing  your  domestic  arrangements 
at  so  short  a  notice.' 

'I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,'  replied  the  femi- 
nine Pott,  with  vivacity.  'It  is  a  high  treat  to  me,  I 
assure  you,  to  see  any  new  faces ;  living  as  I  do,  from 
day  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  in  this  dull  place,  and 
seeing  nobody.' 

'Nobody,  my  dear!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pott,  archly. 

'Nobody  but  you'  retorted  Mrs.  Pott,  with  asperity. 

'You  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  the  host  in  explanation 
of  his  wife's  lament,  'that  we  are  in  some  measure 
cut  off  from  many  enjoyments  and  pleasures  of  which 
we  might  otherwise  partake.  My  public  station,  as 
editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  the  position  which 
that  paper  holds  in  the  country,  my  constant  immer- 
sion in  the  vortex  of  politics — 

'P.  my  dear — '  interposed  Mrs.  Pott. 

'My  life — '  said  the  editor. 

'I  wish,  my  dear,  you  would  endeavour  to  find  some 
topic  of  conversation  in  which  these  gentlemen  might 
take  some  rational  interest.' 

'But,  my  love/  said  Mr.  Pott,  with  great  humility, 
'Mr.  Pickwick  does  take  an  interest  in  it.' 

'It 's  well  for  him  if  he  can,'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  em- 
phatically; 'I  am  wearied  out  of  my  life  with  your 
politics,  and  quarrels  with  the  Independent,  and  non- 
sense. I  am  quite  astonished,  P.,  at  your  making 
such  an  exhibition  of  your  absurdity.' 

'But,  my  dear — '  said  Mr.  Pott. 

'Oh,  nonsense,  don't  talk  to  me';  said  Mrs.  Pott. 
'Do  you  play  ecarte,  sir?' 

'I  shall  be  very  happy  to  learn  under  your  tuition,' 
replied  Mr.  Winkle. 


218  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Well,  then,  draw  that  little  table  into  this  win- 
dow, and  let  me  get  out  of  hearing  of  those  prosy 
politics.' 

'Jane/  said  Mr.  Pott,  to  the  servant  who  brought 
in  candles,  'go  down  into  the  office,  and  bring  me  up 
the  file  of  the  Gazette  for  Eighteen  Hundred  and 
Twenty  Eight.  I  '11  read  you — '  added  the  editor, 
turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  '11  just  read  you  a  few  of 
the  leaders  I  wrote  at  that  time  upon  the  Buff  job 
of  appointing  a  new  tollman  to  the  turnpike  here;  I 
rather  think  they  '11  amuse  you.' 

'I  should  like  to  hear  them  very  much,  indeed,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Up  came  the  file,  and  down  sat  the  editor,  with  Mr. 
Pickwick  at  his  side. 

We  have  in  vain  pored  over  the  leaves  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's note-book,  in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  a  gen- 
eral summary  of  these  beautiful  compositions.  We 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  perfectly  en- 
raptured with  the  vigour  and  freshness  of  the  style; 
indeed,  Mr.  Winkle  has  recorded  the  fact  that  his 
eyes  were  closed,  as  if  with  excess  of  pleasure,  during 
the  whole  time  of  their  perusal. 

The  announcement  of  supper  put  a  stop  both  to  the 
game  at  ecarte,  and  the  recapitulation  of  the  beauties 
of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  Mrs.  Pott  was  in  the 
highest  spirits  and  the  most  agreeable  humour.  Mr. 
Winkle  had  already  made  considerable  progress  in  her 
good  opinion,  and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  inform  him, 
confidentially,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  'a  delightful  old 
dear.'  These  terms  convey  a  familiarity  of  expression, 
in  which  few  of  those  who  were  intimately  acquainted 
with  that  colossal-minded  man,  would  have  presumed 
to  indulge.  We  have  preserved  them,  nevertheless, 
as  affording  at  once  a  touching  and  a  convincing  proof 
of  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  everv  class 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  219 

of  society,  and  the  ease  with  which  he  made  his  way 
to  their  hearts  and  feelings. 

It  was  a  late  hour  of  the  night — long  after  Mr. 
Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  fallen  asleep  in  the 
inmost  recesses  of  the  Peacock — when  the  two  friends 
retired  to  rest.  Slumber  soon  fell  upon  the  senses 
of  Mr.  Winkle,  but  his  feelings  had  been  excited, 
and  his  admiration  roused ;  and  for  many  hours  after 
sleep  had  rendered  him  insensible  to  earthly  objects, 
the  face  and  figure  of  the  agreeable  Mrs.  Pott  pre- 
sented themselves  again  and  again  to  his  wandering 
imagination. 

The  noise  and  bustle  which  ushered  in  the  morning, 
were  sufficient  to  dispel  from  the  mind  of  the  most 
romantic  visionary  in  existence,  any  associations  but 
those  which  were  immediately  connected  with  the 
rapidly-approaching  election.  The  beating  of  drums, 
the  blowing  of  horns  and  trumpets,  the  shouting  of 
men,  and  tramping  of  horses,  echoed  and  re-echoed 
through  the  streets  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  day;  and 
an  occasional  fight  between  the  light  skirmishers  of 
either  party  at  once  enlivened  the  preparations  and 
agreeably  diversified  their  character. 

'Well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  his  valet  ap- 
peared at  his  bed-room  door,  just  as  he  was  concluding 
his  toilet;  'all  alive  to-day,  I  suppose?' 

'Reg'lar  game,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'our  peo- 
ple's a  col-lecting  down  at  the  Town  Arms,  and 
they  're  a  hollering  themselves  hoarse  already.' 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'do  they  seem  devoted  to 
their  party,  Sam?' 

'Never  see  such  dewotion  in  my  life,  sir.' 

'Energetic,  eh?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Uncommon,'  replied  Sam;  'I  never  see  men  eat^and 
drink  so  much  afore.  I  wonder  they  an't  afeer'd  o' 
bustin.' 


220  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

That 's  the  mistaken  kindness  of  the  gentry  here,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wery  likely/  replied  Sam,  briefly. 

Tine,  fresh,  hearty  fellows  they  seem,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  glancing  from  the  window. 

'Wery  fresh/  replied  Sam;  'me,  and  the  two  waiters 
•  at  the  Peacock,  has  been  a  pumpin'  over  the  independ- 
ent woters  as  supped  there  last  night.' 

'Pumping  over  independent  voters !'  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Yes/  said  his  attendant,  'every  man  slept  vere  he 
fell  down;  we  dragged  'em  out,  one  by  one,  this  morn- 
ing and  put  'em  under  the  pump,  and  they  're  in 
reg'lar  fine  order,  now.  Shillin'  a  head  the  committee 
paid  for  that  'ere  job.' 

'Can  such  things  be !'  exclaimed  the  astonished  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Lord  bless  your  heart,  sir/  said  Sam,  'why  where 
was  you  half  baptized? — that 's  nothin',  that  an't.' 

'Nothing?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Nothin'  at  all,  sir/  replied  his  attendant.  'The 
night  afore  the  last  day  o'  the  last  election  here,  the 
opposite  party  bribed  the  barmaid  at  the  Town  Arms, 
to  hocus  the  brandy-and-water  of  fourteen  unpolled 
electors  as  was  a  stoppin'  in  the  house.' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  "hocussing"  brandy-and- 
water?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Puttin'  laud'num  in  it/  replied  Sam.  'Blessed  if 
she  didn't  send  'em  all  to  sleep  'till  twelve  hours  arter 
the  election  was  over.  They  took  one  man  up  to  the 
booth,  in  a  truck,  fast  asleep,  by  way  of  experiment, 
but  it  was  no  go — they  wouldn't  poll  him;  so  they 
brought  him  back,  and  put  him  to  bed  again.' 

'Strange  practices,  these/  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  half 
speaking  to  himself  and  half  addressing  Sam. 

'Not  half  so  strange  as  a  miraculous  circumstance  as 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  221 

happened  to  my  own  father,  at  an  election  time,  in  this 
wery  place,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'What  was  that?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Why  he  drove  a  coach  down  here  once,'  said  Sam; 
'  'lection  time  came  on,  and  he  was  engaged  by  vun 
party  to  bring  down  woters  from  London.  Night 
afore  he  was  a  going  to  drive  up,  committee  on 
t'  other  side  sends  for  him  quietly,  and  away  he  goes 
with  the  messenger,  who  shows  him  in ; — large  room— 
lots  of  gen'l'm'n — heaps  of  papers,  pens  and  ink,  and 
all  that  'ere.  "Ah,  Mr.  Weller,"  says  the  gen'l'm'n 
in  the  chair,  "glad  to  see  you,  sir;  how  are  you?" — 
"Wery  well,  thank  'ee,  sir,"  says  my  father;  "I  hope 
you  re  pretty  middlin,"  says  he. — "Pretty  well, 
thank 'ee,  sir."  says  the  gen'l'm'n;  "sit  down,  Mr. 
Weller — pray  sit  down,  sir."  So  my  father  sits 
down,  and  he  and  the  gen'l'm'n  looks  wery  hard  at 
each  other.  "You  don't  remember  me?"  says  the 
gen'l'm'n. — "Can't  say  I  do,"  says  my  father. — "Oh, 
I  know  you,"  says  the  gen'l'm'n;  "know'd  you  when 
you  was  a  boy,"  says  he. — "Well,  I  don't  remember 
you,"  says  my  father. — "That 's  very  odd,"  says  the 
gen'l'm'n. — "Wery,"  says  my  father. — "You  must 
have  a  bad  mem'ry,  Mr.  Weller,"  says  the  gen'l'm'n. 
—"Well,  it  is  a  wery  bad  'un,"  says  my  father. — "I 
thought  so,"  says  the  gen'l'm'n.— So  then  they  pours 
him  out  a  glass  of  wine,  and  gammons  him  about  his 
driving,  and  gets  him  into  a  reg'lar  good  humour^  and 
at  last  shoves  a  twenty-pound  note  in  his  hand.  "It 's 
a  werry  bad  road  between  this  and  London,"  says  the 
gen'l'm'n. — "Here  and  there  it  is  a  heavy  road,"  says 
my  father. — "  'Specially  near  the  canal,  I  think," 
says  the  gen'l'm'n.— "Nasty  bit  that  'ere,"  says  my 
father.— "Well,  Mr.  Weller,"  says  the  gen'l'm'n, 
"you  're  a  wery  good  whip,  and  can  do  what  you  like 
with  your  horses,  we  know.  We  're  all  wery  fond  o' 


222  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

you,  Mr.  Weller,  so  in  case  you  should  have  an  acci- 
dent when  you  're  a  bringing  these  here  woters  down, 
and  should  tip  'em  over  into  the  canal  vithout  hurtin'  of 


your 

he  did,  and  then  buttons  up  the  money,  and  bows 
himself  out.  You  wouldn't  believe,  sir,'  continued 
Sam,  with  a  look  of  inexpressible  impudence  at  his 
master,  'that  on  the  wery  day  as  he  came  down  with 
them  woters,  his  coach  was  upset  on  that  'ere  wery 
spot,  and  ev'ry  man  on  'em  was  turned  into  the  canal.' 

'And  got  out  again?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hastily. 

'Why,'  replied  Sam,  very  slowly,  'I  rather  think 
one  old  gen'l'm'n  was  missin';  I  know  his  hat  was 
found,  but  I  an't  quite  certain  whether  his  head  was 
in  it  or  not.  But  what  I  look  at,  is  the  hextraordinary, 
and  wonderful  coincidence,  that  arter  what  that 
gen'l'm'n  said,  my  father's  coach  should  be  upset  in 
that  wery  place,  and  on  that  wery  day !' 

'It  is,  no  doubt,  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance 
indeed,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'But  brush  my  hat, 
Sam,  for  I  hear  Mr.  Winkle  calling  me  to  break- 
fast.' 

With  these  words  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the 
parlour,  where  he  found  breakfast  laid,  and  the  family 
already  assembled.  The  meal  was  hastily  de- 
spatched; each  of  the  gentlemen's  hats  was  decorated 
with  an  enormous  blue  favour,  made  up  by  the  fail- 
hands  of  Mrs.  Pott  herself;  and  as  Mr.  Winkle  had 
undertaken  to  escort  that  lady  to  a  house-top,  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  hustings,  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Mr.  Pott  repaired  alone  to  the  Town  Arms,  from 
the  back  window  of  which,  one  of  Mr.  Slumkey's 
committee  was  addressing  six  small  boys,  and  one  girl. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  223 

whom  he  dignified,  at  every  second  sentence,  with  the 
imposing  title  of  'men  of  Eatanswill,'  whereat  the  six 
small  boys  aforesaid  cheered  prodigiously. 

The  stable-yard  exhibited  unequivocal  symptoms  of 
the  glory  and  strength  of  the  Eatanswill  Blues. 
There  was  a  regular  army  of  blue  flags,  some  with  one 
handle,  and  some  with  two,  exhibiting  appropriate 
devices,  in  golden  characters  four  feet  high,  and  stout 
in  proportion.  There  was  a  grand  band  of  trumpets, 
bassoons,  and  drums,  marshalled  four  abreast,  and 
earning  their  money,  if  ever  men  did,  especially  the 
drum  beaters,  who  were  very  muscular.  There  were 
bodies  of  constables  with  blue  staves,  twenty  com- 
mittee-men with  blue  scarfs,  and  a  mob  of  voters  with 
blue  cockades.  There  were  electors  on  horseback,  and 
electors  a-foot.  There  was  an  open  carriage  and  four, 
for  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey;  and  there  were 
four  carriages  and  pair,  for  his  friends  and  supporters ; 
and  the  flags  were  rustling,  and  the  band  was  play- 
ing, and  the  constables  were  swearing,  and  the  twenty 
committee-men  were  squabbling,  and  the  mob  were 
shouting,  and  the  horses  were  backing,  and  the  post- 
boys perspiring ;  and  everybody,  and  everything,  then 
and  there  assembled,  was  for  the  special  use,  behoof, 
honour,  and  renown,  of  the  Honourable  Samue] 
Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  one  of  the  candidates 
for  the  representation  of  the  Borough  of  Eatanswill, 
in  the  Commons  House  of  Parliament  of  the  United 
Kingdom. 

Loud  and  long  were  the  cheers,  and  mighty  was 
the  rustling  of  one  of  the  blue  flags,  with  'Liberty  of 
the  Press'  inscribed  thereon,  when  the  sandy  head  of 
Mr.  Pott  was  discerned  in  one  of  the  windows,  by  the 
mob  beneath;  and  tremendous  was  the  enthusiasm 
when  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  himself,  in 
top-boots,  and  a  blue  neckerchief,  advanced  and  seized 


224  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  hand  of  the  said  Pott,  and  melodramatically  testi- 
fied by  gestures  to  the  crowd,  his  ineffaceable  obliga- 
tions to  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

'Is  everything  ready?'  said  the  Honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey  to  Mr.  Perker. 

'Everything,  my  dear  sir,'  was  the  little  man's  reply. 

'Nothing  has  been  omitted,  I  hope?'  said  the  Hon- 
ourable Samuel  Slumkey. 

'Nothing  has  been  left  undone,  my  dear  sir — noth- 
ing whatever.  There  are  twenty  washed  men  at  the 
street  door  for  you  to  shake  hands  with;  and  six 
children  in  arms  that  you  're  to  pat  on  the  head,  and 
inquire  the  age  of;  be  particular  about  the  children, 
my  dear  sir, — it  has  always  a  great  effect,  that  sort  of 
thing/ 

'I  '11  take  care,*  said  the  Honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey. 

'And,  perhaps,  my  dear  sir — *  said  the  cautious  little 
man,  'perhaps  if  you  could — I  don't  mean  to  say  it 's 
indispensable — but  if  you  could  manage  to  kiss  one  of 
'em,  it  would  produce  a  very  great  impression  on  the 
crowd.' 

'Wouldn't  it  have  as  good  an  effect  if  the  proposer 
or  seconder  did  that?'  said  the  Honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey. 

'Why,  I  am  afraid  it  wouldn't,'  replied  the  agent: 
'if  it  were  done  by  yourself,  my  dear  sir,  I  think  it 
would  make  you  very  popular.' 

'Very  well,'  said  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey, 
with  a  resigned  air,  'then  it  must  be  done.  That 's 
all.' 

'Arrange  the  procession,'  cried  the  twenty  commit- 
tee-men. 

Amidst  the  cheers  of  the  assembled  throng,  the 
band,  and  the  constables,  and  the  committee-men,  and 
the  voters,  and  the  horsemen,  and  the  carriages,  took 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          2*5 

Mieir  places — each  of  the  two-horse  vehicles  being 
closely  packed  with  as  many  gentlemen  as  could 
manage  to  stand  upright  in  it;  and  that  assigned  to 
Mr.  Perker,  containing  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr.  Tupman, 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  about  half  a  dozen  of  the  commit- 
tee beside. 

There  was  a  moment  of  awful  suspense  as  the  pro- 
cession waited  for  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey 
to  step  into  his  carriage.  Suddenly  the  crowd  set  up 
a  great  cheering. 

'He  has  come  out,'  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  greatly 
excited;  the  more  so  as  their  position  did  not  enable 
them  to  see  what  was  going  forward. 

Another  cheer,  much  louder. 

'He  has  shaken  hands  with  the  men,'  cried  the  littfc 
agent. 

Another  cheer,  far  more  vehement. 

'He  has  patted  the  babies  on  the  head,'  said  Mr- 
Perker,  trembling  with  anxiety. 

A  roar  of  applause  that  rent  the  air. 

'He  has  kissed  one  of  'em !'  exclaimed  the  delighted 
little  man. 

A  second  roar. 

'He  has  kissed  another,'  gasped  the  excited  man- 
ager. 

A  third  roar. 

'He's  kissing  'em  all!'  screamed  the  enthusiastic 
little  gentleman.  And  hailed  by  the  deafening 
shouts  of  the  multitude,  the  procession  moved  on. 

How  or  by  what  means  it  became  mixed  up  with 
the  other  procession,  and  how  it  was  ever  extricated 
from  the  confusion  consequent  thereupon,  is  more 
than  we  can  undertake  to  describe,  inasmuch  as  Mr. 
Pickwick's  hat  was  knocked  over  his  eyes,  nose,  and 
mouth,  by  one  poke  of  a  Buff  flag-staff,  very  early 
in  the  proceedings.  He  describes  himself  as  being 


226  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

surrounded  on  every  side,  when  he  could  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  scene,  by  angry  and  ferocious  counte- 
nances, by  a  vast  cloud  of  dust,  and  by  a  dense  crowd 
of  combatants.  He  represents  himself  as  being 
forced  from  the  carriage  by  some  unseen  power,  and 
being  personally  engaged  in  a  pugilistic  encounter; 
but  with  whom,  or  how,  or  why,  he  is  wholly  unable 
to  state.  He  then  felt  himself  forced  up  some 
wooden  steps  by  the  persons  from  behind;  and  on 
removing  his  hat,  found  himself  surrounded  by  his 
friends,  in  the  very  front  of  the  left  hand  side  of  the 
hustings.  The  right  was  reserved  for  the  Buff  party, 
and  the  centre  for  the  Mayor  and  his  officers;  one  of 
whom — the  fat  crier  of  Eatanswill — was  ringing  an 
enormous  bell,  by  way  of  commanding  silence,  while 
Mr.  Horatio  Fizkin,  and  the  Honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey,  with  their  hands  upon  their  hearts,  were 
bowing  with  the  utmost  affability  to  the  troubled  sea 
of  heads  that  inundated  the  open  space  in  front ;  and 
from  whence  arose  a  storm  of  groans,  and  shouts,  and 
yells,  and  hootings,  that  would  have  done  honour  to 
an  earthquake. 

'There  's  Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  pulling  his 
friend  by  the  sleeve. 

'Where?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  putting  on  his  spec- 
tacles, which  he  had  fortunately  kept  in  his  pocket 
hitherto. 

'There,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  'on  the  top  of  that 
house.'  And  there,  sure  enough,  in  the  leaden  gutter 
of  a  tiled  roof,  were  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mrs.  Pott,  com- 
fortably seated  in  a  couple  of  chairs,  waving  their 
handkerchiefs  in  token  of  recognition — a  compliment 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  returned  by  kissing  his  hand  to 
the  lady. 

The  proceedings  had  not  yet  commenced;  and  as 
an  inactive  crowd  is  generally  disposed  to  be  jocose. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  227 

this  very  innocent  action  was  sufficient  to  awaken  their 
facetiousness. 

'Oh,  you  wicked  old  rascal,'  cried  one  voice,  'looking 
arter  the  girls,  are  you?' 

'Oh,  you  wenerable  sinner,'  cried  another. 

'Putting  on  his  spectacles  to  look  at  a  married 
'ooman !'  said  a  third. 

'I  see  him  a  winkin'  at  her,  with  his  wicked  old  eye,' 
shouted  a  fourth. 

'Look  arter  your  wife,  Pott,'  bellowed  a  fifth ;  and 
then  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter. 

As  these  taunts  were  accompanied  with  invidious 
comparisons  between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  an  aged  ram, 
and  several  witticisms  of  the  like  nature;  and  as  they 
moreover  rather  tended  to  convey  reflections  upon 
the  honour  of  an  innocent  lady,  Mr.  Pickwick's  indig- 
nation was  excessive;  but  as  silence  was  proclaimed  at 
the  moment,  he  contented  himself  by  scorching  the 
mob  with  a  look  of  pity  for  their  misguided  minds, 
at  which  they  laughed  more  boisterously  than  ever. 

'Silence!'  roared  the  Mayor's  attendants. 

'Whiffin,  proclaim  silence,'  said  the  Mayor,  with  an 
air  of  pomp  befitting  his  lofty  station.  In  obedience 
to  this  command  the  crier  performed  another  concerto 
on  the  bell,  whereupon  a  gentleman  in  the  crowd  called 
out  'muffins' ;  which  occasioned  another  laugh. 

'Gentlemen,'  said  the  Mayor,  at  as  loud  a  pitch  as 
he  could  possibly  force  his  voice  to,  'Gentlemen. 
Brother  electors  of  the  Borough  of  Eatanswill.  We 
are  met  here  to-day  for  the  purpose  of  choosing  a 
representative  in  the  room  of  our  late- 
Here  the  Mayor  was  interrupted  by  a  voice  in  the 
crowd. 

'Sue-cess  to  the  Mayor!'  cried  the  voice,  'and  may  he 
never  desert  the  nail  and  sarspan  business,  as  he  got 
his  money  by.' 


228  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Tliis  allusion  to  the  professional  pursuits  of  the 
orator  was  received  with  a  storm  of  delight,  which, 
with  a  bell-accompaniment,  rendered  the  remainder 
of  his  speech  inaudible,  with  the  exception  of  the  con- 
cluding sentence,  in  which  he  thanked  the  meeting  for 
the  patient  attention  with  which  they  had  heard  him 
throughout, — an  expression  of  gratitude  which  elic- 
ited another  burst  of  mirth,  of  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  duration. 

Next,  a  tall  thin  gentleman,  in  a  very  stiff  white 
neckerchief,  after  being  repeatedly  desired  by  the 
crowd  to  'send  a  boy  home,  to  ask  whether  he  hadn't 
left  his  woice  under  the  pillow,'  begged  to  nominate 
a  fit  and  proper  person  to  represent  them  in  Parlia- 
ment. And  when  he  said  it  was  Horatio  Fizkin, 
Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  near  Eatanswill,  the  Fiz- 
kinites  applauded,  and  the  Slumkeyites  groaned,  so 
long,  and  so  loudly,  that  both  he  and  the  seconder 
might  have  sung  comic  songs  in  lieu  of  speaking, 
without  anybody's  being  a  bit  the  wiser. 

The  friends  of  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  having  had 
their  innings,  a  little  choleric,  pink-faced  man  stood 
forward  to  propose  another  fit  and  proper  person  to 
represent  the  electors  of  Eatanswill  in  Parliament; 
and  very  swimmingly  the  pink-faced  gentleman 
would  have  got  on,  if  he  had  not  been  rather  too 
choleric  to  entertain  a  sufficient  perception  of  the  fun 
of  the  crowd.  But  after  a  very  few  sentences  of 
figurative  eloquence,  the  pink-faced  gentleman  got 
from  denouncing  those  who  interrupted  him  in  the 
mob,  to  exchanging  defiances  with  the  gentlemen  on 
the  hustings;  whereupon  arose  an  uproar  which  re- 
duced him  to  the  necessity  of  expressing  his  feelings 
by  serious  pantomime,  which  he  did,  and  then  left  the 
stage  to  his  seconder,  who  delivered  a  written  speech 
of  half  an  hour's  length,  and  wouldn't  be  stopped, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  229 

because  he  had  sent  it  all  to  the  Eatanswill  Gazette, 
and  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  had  already  printed  it, 
every  word. 

Then  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge, 
near  Eatanswill,  presented  himself  for  the  purpose 
of  addressing  the  electors;  which  he  no  sooner  did, 
than  the  band  employed  by  the  Honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey,  commenced  performing  with  a  power  to 
which  their  strength  in  the  morning  was  a  trifle;  in 
return  for  which,  the  Buff  crowd  belaboured  the  heads 
and  shoulders  of  the  Blue  crowd;  on  which  the  Blue 
crowd  endeavoured  to  dispossess  themselves  of  their 
very  unpleasant  neighbours  the  Buff  crowd;  and  a 
scene  of  struggling,  and  pushing,  and  fighting,  suc- 
ceeded, to  which  we  can  no  more  do  justice  than  the 
Mayor  could,  although  he  issued  imperative  orders 
to  twelve  constables  to  seize  the  ringleaders,  who  might 
amount  in  number  to  two  hundred  and  fifty,  or  there- 
abouts.    At   all   these   encounters,    Horatio   Fizkin, 
Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  and  his  friends,  waxed 
fierce  and  furious;  until  at  last  Horatio  Fizkin,  Es- 
quire, of  Fizkin  Lodge,  begged  to  ask  his  opponent 
the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall, 
whether  that  band  played  by  his  consent;  which  ques- 
tion the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  declining  to 
answer,  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge, 
shook  his  fist  in  the  countenance  of  the  Honourable 
Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall;  upon  which  the 
Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  his  blood  being  up,  de- 
fied Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  to  mortal  combat.     At 
this  violation  of  all  known  rules  and  precedents  of 
order,  the  Mayor  commanded  another  fantasia  on  the 
bell,  and  declared  that  he  would  bring  before  himself, 
both  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  and 
the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall, 
and  bind  them  over  to  keep  the  peace.     Upon  this 


230  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

terrific  denunciation,  the  supporters  of  the  two  candi- 
dates interfered,  and  after  the  friends  of  each  party 
had  quarrelled  in  pairs,  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour, 
Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  touched  his  hat  to  the  Hon- 
ourable Samuel  Slumkey:  the  Honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey  touched  his  to  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire :  the 
band  was  stopped:  the  crowd  were  partially  quieted: 
and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  was  permitted  to  pro- 
ceed. 

The  speeches  of  the  two  candidates,  though  differ- 
ing in  every  other  respect,  afforded  a  beautiful  tribute 
to  the  merit  and  high  worth  of  the  electors  of  Eatans- 
will.  Both  expressed  their  opinion  that  a  more  in- 
dependent, a  more  enlightened,  a  more  public-spirited, 
a  more  noble-minded,  a  more  disinterested  set  of  men 
than  those  who  had  promised  to  vote  for  him,  never 
existed  on  earth;  each  darkly  hinted  his  suspicions 
that  the  electors  in  the  opposite  interest  had  certain 
swinish  and  besotted  infirmities  which  rendered  them 
unfit  for  the  exercise  of  the  important  duties  they 
were  called  upon  to  discharge.  Fizkin  expressed  his 
readiness  to  do  anything  he  was  wanted ;  Slumkey,  his 
determination  to  do  nothing  that  was  asked  of  him. 
Both  said  that  the  trade,  the  manufactures,  the  com- 
merce, the  prosperity  of  Eatanswill,  would  ever  be 
dearer  to  their  hearts  than  any  earthly  object;  and  each 
had  it  in  his  power  to  state,  with  the  utmost  confi- 
dence, that  he  was  the  man  who  would  eventually  be 
returned. 

There  was  a  show  of  hands;  the  Mayor  decided  in 
favour  of  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slum- 
key  Hall.  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin 
Lodge,  demanded  a  poll,  and  a  poll  was  fixed  accord- 
ingly. Then  a  vote  of  thanks  was  moved  to  the 
Mayor  for  his  able  conduct  in  the  chair ;  and  the  Mayor 
devoutly  wishing  that  he  had  had  a  chair  to  display  his 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  231 

able  conduct  in  (for  he  had  been  standing  during  the 
whole  proceedings),  returned  thanks.  The  proces- 
sions re-formed,  the  carriages  rolled  slowly  through 
the  crowd,  and  its  members  screeched  and  shouted 
after  them  as  their  feelings  or  caprice  dictated. 

During  the  whole  time  of  the  polling,  the  town  was 
in  a  perpetual  fever  of  excitement.  Everything  was 
conducted  on  the  most  liberal  and  delightful  scale. 
Exciseable  articles  were  remarkably  cheap  at  all  the 
public-houses ;  and  spring  vans  paraded  the  streets  for 
the  accommodation  of  voters  who  were  seized  with  any 
temporary  dizziness  in  the  head — an  epidemic  which 
prevailed  among  the  electors,  during  the  contest,  to 
a  most  alarming  extent,  and  under  the  influence  of 
which  they  might  frequently  be  seen  lying  on  the 
pavements  in  a  state  of  utter  insensibility.  A  small 
body  of  electors  remained  unpolled  on  the  very  last 
day.  They  were  calculating  and  reflecting  persons, 
who  had  not  yet  been  convinced  by  the  arguments  of 
either  party,  although  they  had  had  frequent  con- 
ferences with  each.  One  hour  before  the  close  of  the 
poll,  Mr.  Perker  solicited  the  honour  of  a  private 
interview  with  these  intelligent, '  these  noble,  these 
patriotic  men.  It  was  granted.  His  arguments 
were  brief,  but  satisfactory.  They  went  in  a  body  to 
the  poll;  and  when  they  returned,  the  Honourable 
Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  was  returned  also. 


232  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  XIV 

COMPRISING  A  BRIEF  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  COMPANY 
AT  THE  PEACOCK  ASSEMBLED;  AND  A  TALE  TOLD  BY 
A  BAGMAN 

IT  is  pleasant  to  turn  from  contemplating  the  strife 
and  turmoil  of  political  existence,  to  the  peaceful 
repose  of  private  life.  Although  in  reality  no  great 
partisan  of  either  side,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently 
fired  with  Mr.  Pott's  enthusiasm,  to  apply  his  whole 
time  and  attention  to  the  proceedings,  of  which  the 
last  chapter  affords  a  description  compiled  from  his 
own  memoranda.  Nor  while  he  was  thus  occupied 
was  Mr.  Winkle  idle,  his  whole  time  being  devoted 
to  pleasant  walks  and  short  country  excursions  with 
Mrs.  Pott,  who  never  failed,  when  such  an  oppor- 
tunity presented  itself,  to  seek  some  relief  from  the 
tedious  monotony  she  so  constantly  complained  of. 
The  two  gentlemen  being  thus  completely  domesti- 
cated in  the  Editor's  house,  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  were  in  a  great  measure  cast  upon  their 
own  resources.  Taking  but  little  interest  in  public 
affairs,  they  beguiled  their  time  chiefly  with  such 
amusements  as  the  Peacock  afforded,  which  were  lim- 
ited to  a  bagatelle-board  in  the  first  floor,  and  a  se- 
questered skittle-ground  in  the  back  yard.  In  the 
science  and  nicety  of  both  these  recreations,  which  are 
far  more  abstruse  than  ordinary  men  suppose,  they 
were  gradually  initiated  by  Mr.  Weller,  who  pos- 
sessed a  perfect  knowledge  of  such  pastimes.  Thus, 
notwithstanding  that  they  were  in  a  great  measure 
deprived  of  the  comfort  and  advantage  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's society,  they  were  still  enabled  to  beguile  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  233 

time,  and  to  prevent  its  hanging  heavily  on  their 
hands. 

It  was  in  the  evening,  however,  that  the  Peacock 
presented  attractions  which  enabled  the  two  friends  to 
resist  even  the  invitations  of  the  gifted,  though  prosy, 
Pott.  It  was  in  the  evening  that  the  'commercial 
room'  was  filled  with  a  social  circle,  whose  characters 
and  manners  it  was  the  delight  of  Mr.  Tupman  to 
observe;  whose  sayings  and  doings  it  was  the  habit 
of  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  note  down. 

Most  people  know  what  sort  of  places  commercial 
rooms  usually  are.  That  of  the  Peacock  differed 
in  no  material  respect  from  the  generality  of  such 
apartments ;  that  is  to  say,  it  was  a  large  bare-looking 
room,  the  furniture  of  which  had  no  doubt  been  better 
when  it  was  newer,  with  a  spacious  table  in  the  centre, 
and  a  variety  of  smaller  dittos  in  the  corners:  an  ex- 
tensive assortment  of  variously  shaped  chairs,  and  an 
old  Turkey  carpet,  bearing  about  the  same  relative 
proportion  to  the  size  of  the  room,  as  a  lady's  pocket- 
handkerchief  might  to  the  floor  of  a  watch-box.  The 
walls  were  garnished  with  one  or  two  large  maps ;  and 
several  weather-beaten  rough  great-coats,  with  com- 
plicated capes,  dangled  from  a  long  row  of  pegs  in 
one  corner.  The  mantelshelf  was  ornamented  with 
a  wooden  inkstand,  containing  one  stump  of  a  pen 
and  half  a  wafer:  a  road-book  and  directory:  a  county 
history  minus  the  cover:  and  the  mortal  remains  of  a 
trout  in  a  glass  coffin.  The  atmosphere  was  redolent 
of  tobacco-smoke,  the  fumes  of  which  had  communi- 
cated a  rather  dingy  hue  to  the  whole  room,  and 
more  especially  to  the  dusty  red  curtains  which  shaded 
the  windows.  On  the  sideboard  a  variety  of  mis- 
cellaneous articles  were  huddled  together,  the  most 
conspicuous  of  which  were  some  very  cloudy  fish- 


234  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sauce  cruets,  a  couple  of  driving-boxes,  two  or  three 
whips,  and  as  many  travelling  shawls,  a  tray  of  knives 
and  forks,  and  the  mustard. 

Here  it  was  that  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass 
were  seated  on  the  evening  after  the  conclusion  of  the 
election,  with  several  other  temporary  inmates  of  the 
house,  smoking  and  drinking. 

'Well,  gents,'  said  a  stout,  hale  personage  of  about 
forty,  with  only  one  eye — a  very  bright  black  eye, 
which  twinkled  with  a  roguish  expression  of  fun  and 
good  humour,  'our  noble  selves,  gents.  I  always  pro- 
pose that  toast  to  the  company,  and  drink  Mary  to 
myself.  Eh,  Mary!' 

'Get  along  with  you,  you  wretch,'  said  the  hand- 
maiden, obviously  not  ill  pleased  with  the  compliment, 
however. 

'Don't  go  away,  Mary,'  said  the  black-eyed  man. 

'Let  me  alone,  imperence,'  said  the  young  lady. 

'Never  mind,'  said  the  one-eyed  man,  calling  after 
the  girl  as  she  left  the  room.  'I  '11  step  out  by  and 
by,  Mary.  Keep  your  spirits  up,  dear.'  Here  he 
went  through  the  not  very  difficult  process  of  wink- 
ing upon  the  company  with  his  solitary  eye,  to  the 
enthusiastic  delight  of  an  elderly  personage  with  a 
dirty  face  and  a  clay  pipe. 

'Rum  creeters  is  women,'  said  the  dirty-faced  man, 
after  a  pause. 

'Ah!  no  mistake  about  that,'  said  a  very  red-faced 
man,  behind  a  cigar. 

After  this  little  bit  of  philosophy  there  was  another 
pause. 

'There  's  rummer  things  than  women  in  this  world 
though,  mind  you,'  said  the  man  with  the  black  eye, 
slowly  filling  a  large  Dutch  pipe,  with  a  most  capa- 
cious bowl. 

'Are  you  married?'  inquired  the  dirty-faced  man. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  235 

'Can't  say  I  am.' 

'I  thought  not.'  Here  the  dirty-faced  man  fell 
into  fits  of  mirth  at  his  own  retort,  in  which  he  was 
joined  by  a  man  of  bland  voice  and  placid  counte- 
nance, who  always  made  it  a  point  to  agree  with 
everybody. 

'Women,  after  all,  gentlemen,'  said  the  enthusi- 
astic Mr.  Snodgrass,  'are  the  great  props  and  com- 
forts of  our  existence.' 

'So  they  are,'  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

'When  they  're  in  a  good  humour,'  interposed  the 
dirty-faced  man. 

'And  that 's  very  true,'  said  the  placid  one. 

'I  repudiate  that  qualification,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrassr 
whose  thoughts  were  fast  reverting  to  Emily  Wardle, 
'I  repudiate  it  with  disdain — with  indignation.  Show 
me  the  man  who  says  anything  against  women,  as 
women,  and  I  boldly  declare  he  is  not  a  man.'  And 
Mr.  Snodgrass  took  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  and 
struck  the  table  violently  with  his  clenched  fist. 

'That 's  good  sound  argument,'  said  the  placid  man. 

'Containing  a  position  which  I  deny,'  interrupted 
he  of  the  dirty  countenance. 

'And  there  's  certainly  a  very  great  deal  of  truth 
in  what  you  observe  too,  sir,'  said  the  placid  gentle- 
man. 

'Your  health,  sir,'  said  the  bagman  with  the  lonely 
eye,  bestowing  an  approving  nod  on  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  acknowledged  the  compliment. 

'I  always  like  to  hear  a  good  argument,'  continued 
the  bagman,  'a  sharp  one,  like  this ;  it 's  very  improv- 
ing; but  this  little  argument  about  women  brought  to 
my  mind  a  story  I  have  heard  an  old  uncle  of  mine 
tell,  the  recollection  of  which,  just  now,  made  me  say 
there  were  rummer  things  than  women  to  be  met  with, 
sometimes.' 


236  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  should  like  to  hear  that  same  story,'  said  the 
red- faced  man  with  the  cigar. 

'Should  you?'  was  the  only  reply  of  the  bagman, 
who  continued  to  smoke  with  great  vehemence. 

'So  should  I,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  speaking  for  the 
first  time.  He  was  always  anxious  to  increase  his 
stock  of  experience. 

'Should  you?  Well  then,  I  '11  tell  it.  No,  I  won't. 
I  know  you  won't  believe  it,'  said  the  man  with  the 
roguish  eye,  making  that  organ  look  more  roguish 
than  ever. 

'If  you  say  it 's  true,  of  course  I  shall,'  said  Mr. 
Tupman. 

'Well,  upon  that  understanding  J  '11  tell  you,'  re- 
plied the  traveller.  'Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  great 
commercial  house  of  Bilson  and  Slum?  But  it 
doesn't  matter  though,  whether  you  did  or  not,  be- 
cause they  retired  from  business  long  since.  It 's 
eighty  years  ago,  since  the  circumstance  happened  to 
a  traveller  for  that  house,  but  he  was  a  particular 
friend  of  my  uncle's ;  and  my  uncle  told  the  story  to 
me.  It 's  a  queer  name ;  but  he  used  to  call  it 

THE  BAGMAN'S  STORY, 

and  he  used  to  tell  it,  something  in  this  way. 

'One  winter's  evening,  about  five  o'clock,  just  as 
it  began  to  grow  dusk,  a  man  in  a  gig  might  have 
been  seen  urging  his  tired  horse  along  the  road  which 
leads  across  Marlborough  Downs,  in  the  direction  of 
Bristol.  I  say  he  might  have  been  seen,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  he  would  have  been,  if  anybody  but  a  blind 
man  had  happened  to  pass  that  way ;  but  the  weather 
was  so  bad,  and  the  night  so  cold  and  wet,  that  noth- 
ing was  out  but  the  water,  and  so  the  traveller  jogged 
along  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  lonesome  and  dreary 
enough.  If  any  bagman  of  that  day  could  have 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          237 

caught  sight  of  the  little  neck-or-nothing  sort  of  gig, 
with  a  clay-coloured  body  and  red  wheels,  and  the 
vixenish,  ill-tempered,  fast-going  bay  mare,  that 
looked  like  a  cross  between  a  butcher's  horse  and  a 
twopenny  post-office  pony,  he  would  have  known  at 
once,  that  this  traveller  could  have  been  no  other  than 
Tom  Smart,  of  the  great  house  of  Bilson  and  Slum, 
Cateaton  Street,  City.  However,  as  there  was  no 
bagman  to  look  on,  nobody  knew  anything  at  all 
about  the  matter;  and  so  Tom  Smart  and  his  clay- 
coloured  gig  with  the  red  wheels,  and  the  vixenish 
mare  with  the  fast  pace,  went  on  together,  keeping 
the  secret  among  them:  and  nobody  was  a  bit  the 
wiser. 

'There  are  many  pleasanter  places  even  in  this 
dreary  world,  than  Marlborough  Downs  when  it 
blows  hard;  and  if  you  throw  in  beside,  a  gloomy 
winter's  evening,  a  miry  and  sloppy  road,  and  a  pelt- 
ing fall  of  heavy  rain,  and  try  the  effect,  by  way  of 
experiment,  in  your  own  proper  person,  you  will  ex- 
perience the  full  force  of  this  observation. 

'The  wind  blew — not  up  the  road  or  down  it, 
though  that 's  bad  enough,  but  sheer  across  it,  send- 
ing the  rain  slanting  down  like  the  lines  they  used 
to  rule  in  the  copy-books  at  school,  to  make  the  boys 
slope  well.  For  a  moment  it  would  die  away,  and  the 
traveller  would  begin  to  delude  himself  into  the  be- 
lief that,  exhausted  with  its  previous  fury,  it  had 
quietly  lain  itself  down  to  rest,  when,  whoo !  he  would 
hear  it  growling  and  whistling  in  the  distance,  and 
on  it  would  come  rushing  over  the  hill-tops,  and  sweep- 
ing along  the  plain,  gathering  sound  and  strength 
as  it  drew  nearer,  until  it  dashed  with  a  heavy  gust 
against  horse  and  man,  driving  the  sharp  rain  into 
their  ears,  and  its  cold  damp  breath  into  their  very 
bones;  and  past  them  it  would  scour,  far,  far  away, 


238  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  a  stunning  roar,  as  if  in  ridicule  of  their  weak- 
ness, and  triumphant  in  the  consciousness  of  its  own 
strength  and  power. 

'The  bay  mare  splashed  away,  through  the  mud 
and  water,  with  drooping  ears;  now  and  then  tossing 
her  head  as  if  to  express  her  disgust  at  this  very 
ungentlemanly  behaviour  of  the  elements,  but  keep- 
ing a  good  pace  notwithstanding,  until  a  gust  of  wind, 
more  furious  than  any  that  had  yet  assailed  them, 
caused  her  to  stop  suddenly  and  plant  her  four  feet 
firmly  against  the  ground,  to  prevent  her  being  blown 
over.  It 's  a  special  mercy  that  she  did  this,  for  if 
she  had  been  blown  over,  the  vixenish  mare  was  so 
light,  and  the  gig  was  so  light,  and  Tom  Smart  such 
a  light  weight  into  the  bargain,  that  they  must  infal- 
libly have  all  gone  rolling  over  and  over  together, 
until  they  reached  the  confines  of  earth,  or  until 
the  wind  fell;  and  in  either  case  the  probability  is, 
that  neither  the  vixenish  mare,  nor  the  clay-coloured 
gig  with  the  red  wheels,  nor  Tom  Smart,  would  ever 
have  been  fit  for  service  again. 

"Well,  damn  my  straps  and  whiskers,"  says  Tom 
Smart  (Tom  sometimes  had  an  unpleasant  knack  of 
swearing),  "Damn  my  straps  and  whiskers,"  says 
Tom,  "If  this  ain't  pleasant,  blow  me!" 

'You  '11  very  likely  ask  me  why,  as  Tom  Smart  had 
been  pretty  well  blown  already,  he  expressed  this  wish 
to  be  submitted  to  the  same  process  again.  I  can't 
say — all  I  know  is,  that  Tom  Smart  said  so — or  at 
least  he  always  told  my  uncle  he  said  so,  and  it 's  just 
the  same  thing. 

"Blow  me,"  says  Tom  Smart;  and  the  mare 
neighed,  as  if  she  were  precisely  of  the  same  opinion. 

"Cheer  up,  old  girl,"  said  Tom,  patting  the  bay 
mare  on  the  neck  with  the  end  of  his  whip.  "It 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  239 

won't  do  pushing  on,  such  a  night  as  this;  the  first 
house  we  come  to  we  '11  put  up  at,  so  the  faster  you 
go  the  sooner  it's  over.  Soho,  old  girl — o-entlv — 
gently." 

'Whether  the  vixenish  mare  was  sufficiently  well 
acquainted  with  the  tones  of  Tom's  voice  to  compre- 
hend his  meaning,  or  whether  she  found  it  colder 
standing  still  than  moving  on,  of  course  I  can't  say. 
But  I  can  say  that  Tom  had  no  sooner  finished  speak- 
ing, than  she  pricked  up  her  ears,  and  started  forward 
at  a  speed  which  made  the  clay-coloured  gig  rattle 
till  you  would  have  supposed  every  one  of  the  red 
spokes  were  going  to  fly  out  on  the  turf  of  Marl- 
borough  Downs;  and  even  Tom,  whip  as  he  was, 
couldn't  stop  or  check  her  pace,  until  she  drew  up,  of 
her  own  accord,  before  a  road-side  inn  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  way,  about  half  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
from  the  end  of  the  Downs. 

'Tom  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  the  upper  part  of  the 
house  as  he  threw  the  reins  to  the  hostler,  and  stuck 
the  whip  in  the  box.  It  was  a  strange  old  place, 
built  of  a  kind  of  shingle,  inlaid,  as  it  were,  with 
cross-beams,  with  gable-topped  windows  projecting 
completely  over  the  pathway,  and  a  low  door  with  a 
dark  porch,  and  a  couple  of  steep  steps  leading  down 
into  the  house,  instead  of  the  modern  fashion  of  half 
a  dozen  shallow  ones  leading  up  to  it.  It  was  a 
comfortable-looking  place  though,  for  there  was  a 
strong  cheerful  light  in  the  bar-window,  which  shed 
a  bright  ray  across  the  road,  and  even  lighted  up  the 
hedge  on  the  other  side ;  and  there  was  a  red  flickering 
light  in  the  opposite  window,  one  moment  but  faintly 
discernible,  and  the  next  gleaming  strongly  through 
the  drawn  curtains,  which  intimated  that  a  rousing 
fire  was  blazing  within.  Marking  these  little  evi- 


240  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

dences  with  the  eye  of  an  experienced  traveller,  Tom 
dismounted  with  as  much  agility  as  his  half -frozen 
limbs  would  permit,  and  entered  the  house. 

'In  less  than  five  minutes'  time,  Tom  was  ensconced 
in  the  room  opposite  the  bar — the  very  room  where 
he  had  imagined  the  fire  blazing — before  a  substantial 
matter-of-fact  roaring  fire,  composed  of  something 
short  of  a  bushel  of  coals,  and  wood  enough  to  make 
half  a  dozen  decent  gooseberry  bushes,  piled  half-way 
up  the  chimney,  and  roaring  and  crackling  with  a 
sound  that  of  itself  would  have  warmed  the  heart  of 
any  reasonable  man.  This  was  comfortable,  but  this 
was  not  all,  for  a  smartly  dressed  girl,  with  a  bright 
eye  and  a  neat  ankle,  was  laying  a  very  clean  white 
cloth  on  the  table;  and  as  Tom  sat  with  his  slippered 
feet  on  the  fender,  and  his  back  to  the  open  door,  he 
saw  a  charming  prospect  of  the  bar  reflected  in  the 
glass  over  the  chimney-piece,  with  delightful  rows  of 
green  bottles  and  gold  labels,  together  with  jars  of 
pickles  and  preserves,  and  cheeses  and  boiled  hams, 
and  rounds  of  beef,  arranged  on  shelves  in  the  most 
tempting  and  delicious  array.  Well,  this  was  com- 
fortable too ;  but  even  this  was  not  all — for  in  the  bar, 
seated  at  tea  at  the  nicest  possible  little  table,  drawn 
close  up  before  the  brightest  possible  little  fire,  was 
a  buxom  widow  of  somewhere  about  eight  and  forty 
or  thereabouts,  with  a  face  as  comfortable  as  the  bar, 
who  was  evidently  the  landlady  of  the  house,  and 
the  supreme  ruler  over  all  these  agreeable  possessions. 
There  was  only  one  drawback  to  the  beauty  of  the 
whole  picture,  and  that  was  a  tall  man — a  very  tall 
man — in  a  brown  coat  and  bright  basket  buttons,  and 
black  whiskers,  and  wavy  black  hair,  who  was  seated 
at  tea  with  the  widow,  and  who  it  required  no  great 
penetration  to  discover  was  in  a  fair  way  of  per- 
suading her  to  be  a  widow  no  longer,  but  to  confer 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  241 

upon  him.  the  privilege  of  sitting  down  in  that  bar, 
for  and  during  the  whole  remainder  of  the  term  of  his 
natural  life. 

'Tom  Smart  was  by  no  means  of  an  irritable  or 
envious  disposition,  but  somehow  or  other  the  tall  man 
with  the  brown  coat  and  the  bright  basket  buttons 
did  rouse  what  little  gall  he  had  in  his  composition, 
and  did  make  him  feel  extremely  indignant:  the  more 
especially  as  he  could  now  and  then  observe,  from  his 
seat  before  the  glass,  certain  little  affectionate  famil- 
iarities passing  between  the  tall  man  and  the  widow, 
which  sufficiently  denoted  that  the  tall  man  was  as 
high  in  favour  as  he  was  in  size.  Tom  was  fond  of 
hot  punch — I  may  venture  to  say  he  was  very  fond 
of  hot  punch — and  after  he  had  seen  the  vixenish 
mare  well  fed  and  well  littered  down,  and  had  eaten 
every  bit  of  the  nice  little  hot  dinner  which  the  widow 
tossed  up  for  him  with  her  own  hands,  he  just  ordered 
a  tumbler  of  it,  by  way  of  experiment.  Now,  if 
there  was  one  thing  in  the  whole  range  of  domestic 
art,  which  the  widow  could  manufacture  better  than 
another,  it  wras  this  identical  article;  and  the  first 
tumbler  was  adapted  to  Tom  Smart's  taste  with  such 
peculiar  nicety,  that  he  ordered  a  second  with  the 
least  possible  delay.  Hot  punch  is  a  pleasant  thing, 
gentlemen — an  extremely  pleasant  thing  under  any 
circumstances — but  in  that  snug  old  parlour,  before 
the  roaring  fire,  with  the  wind  blowing  outside  till 
every  timber  in  the  old  house  creaked  again,  Tom 
Smart  found  it  perfectly  delightful.  He  ordered 
another  tumbler,  and  then  another — I  am  not  quite 
certain  whether  he  didn't  order  another  after  that— 
but  the  more  he  drank  of  the  hot  punch,  the  more  he 
thought  of  the  tall  man. 

'  "Confound  his  impudence!"  said  Tom  to  himself, 
"what  business  has  he  in  that  snug  bar?     Such  an  ugly 


242  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

villain  too!"  said  Tom.  "If  the  widow  had  any  taste 
she  might  surely  pick  up  some  better  fellow  than 
that."  Here  Tom's  eye  wandered  from  the  glass  on 
the  chimney-piece,  to  the  glass  on  the  table;  and  as 
he  felt  himself  becoming  gradually  sentimental,  he 
emptied  the  fourth  tumbler  of  punch  and  ordered  a 
fifth. 

'Tom  Smart,  gentlemen,  had  always  been  very 
much  attached  to  the  public  line.  It  had  long  been 
his  ambition  to  stand  in  a  bar  of  his  own,  in  a  green 
coat,  knee-cords,  and  tops.  He  had  a  great  notion 
of  taking  the  chair  at  convivial  dinners,  and  he  had 
often  thought  how  well  he  could  preside  in  a  room 
of  his  own  in  the  talking  way,  and  what  a  capital 
example  he  could  set  to  his  customers  in  the  drinking 
department.  All  these  things  passed  rapidly  through 
Tom's  mind  as  he  sat  drinking  the  hot  punch  by  the 
roaring  fire,  and  he  felt  very  justly  and  properly 
indignant  that  the  tall  man  should  be  in  a  fair  way 
of  keeping  such  an  excellent  house,  while  he,  Tom 
Smart,  was  as  far  off  from  it  as  ever.  So,  after  de- 
liberating over  the  two  last  tumblers,  whether  he 
hadn't  a  perfect  right  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  tall 
man  for  having  contrived  to  get  into  the  good  graces 
of  the  buxom  widow,  Tom  Smart  at  last  arrived  at 
the  satisfactory  conclusion  that  he  was  a  very  ill-used 
and  persecuted  individual,  and  had  better  go  to  bed. 

'Up  a  wide  and  ancient  staircase  the  smart  girl 
preceded  Tom,  shading  the  chamber  candle  with  her 
hand,  to  protect  it  from  the  currents  of  air  which  in 
such  a  rambling  old  place  might  have  found  plenty 
of  room  to  disport  themselves  in,  without  blowing 
the  candle  out,  but  which  did  blow  it  out  nevertheless ; 
thus  affording  Tom's  enemies  an  opportunity  of 
asserting  that  it  was  he,  and  not  the  wind,  who  ex- 
tinguished the  candle,  and  that  while  he  pretended 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  243 

to  be  blowing  it  alight  again,  he  was  in  fact  kissing 
the  girl.  Be  this  as  it  may,  another  light  was  ob- 
tained, and  Tom  was  conducted  through  a  maze  of 
rooms,  and  a  labyrinth  of  passages,  to  the  apartment 
which  had  been  prepared  for  his  reception,  where  the 
girl  bade  him  good  night,  and  left  him  alone. 

'It  was  a  good  large  room  with  big  closets,  and  a 
bed  which  might  have  served  for  a  whole  boarding- 
school,  to  say  nothing  of  a  couple  of  oaken  presses 
that  would  have  held  the  baggage  of  a  small  army; 
but  what  struck  Tom's  fancy  most  was  a  strange, 
grim-looking  high-backed  chair,  carved  in  the  most 
fantastic  manner,  with  a  flowered  damask  cushion, 
and  the  round  knobs  at  the  bottom  of  the  legs  care- 
fully tied  up  in  red  cloth,  as  if  it  had  got  the  gout 
in  its  toes.  Of  any  other  queer  chair,  Tom  would 
only  have  thought  it  was  a  queer  chair,  and  there 
would  have  been  an  end  of  the  matter ;  but  there  was 
something  about  this  particular  chair,  and  yet  he 
couldn't  tell  what  it  was,  so  odd  and  so  unlike  any 
other  piece  of  furniture  he  had  ever  seen,  that  it 
seemed  to  fascinate  him.  He  sat  down  before  the 
fire,  and  stared  at  the  old  chair  for  half  an  hour;— 
Deuce  take  the  chair,  it  was  such  a  strange  old  thing, 
he  couldn't  take  his  eyes  off  it. 

'  "Well,"  said  Tom,  slowly  undressing  himself,  and 
staring  at  the  old  chair  all  the  while,  which  stood  with 
a  mysterious  aspect  by  the  bedside,  "I  never  saw  such 
a  rum  concern  as  that  in  my  days.  Very  odd,"  said 
Tom,  who  had  got  rather  sage  with  the  hot  punch, 
"very  odd."  Tom  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  pro- 
found wisdom,  and  looked  at  the  chair  again.  He 
couldn't  make  anything  of  it  though,  so  he  got  into 
bed,  covered  himself  up  warm,  and  fell  asleep. 

'In  about  half  an  hour,  Tom  woke  up,  with  a  start, 
from  a  confused  dream  of  tall  men  and  tumblers  of 


244 

punch:  and  the  first  object  that  presented  itself  to  his 
waking  imagination  was  the  queer  chair. 

'  "I  won't  look  at  it  any  more,"  said  Tom  to  him- 
self, and  he  squeezed  his  eyelids  together,  and  tried 
to  persuade  himself  he  was  going  to  sleep  again. 
No  use;  nothing  but  queer  chairs  danced  before  his 
eyes,  kicking  up  their  legs,  jumping  over  each  other's 
backs,  and  playing  all  kinds  of  antics. 

'  "I  may  as  well  see  one  real  chair,  as  two  or  three 
complete  sets  of  false  ones,"  said  Tom,  bringing  out 
his  head  from  under  the  bedclothes.  There  it  was, 
plainly  discernible  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  looking  as 
provoking  as  ever. 

'Tom  gazed  at  the  chair;  and,  suddenly  as  he  looked 
at  it,  a  most  extraordinary  change  seemed  to  come 
over  it.  The  carving  of  the  back  gradually  assumed 
the  lineaments  and  expression  of  an  old  shrivelled 
human  face;  the  damask  cushion  became  an  antique, 
flapped  waistcoat ;  the  round  knobs  grew  into  a  couple 
of  feet,  encased  in  red  cloth  slippers ;  and  the  old  chair 
looked  like  a  very  ugly  old  man,  of  the  previous  cen- 
tury, with  his  arms  a-kimbo.  Tom  sat  up  in  bed, 
and  rubbed  his  eyes  to  dispel  the  allusion.  No.  The 
chair  was  an  ugly  old  gentleman ;  and  what  was  more, 
he  was  winking  at  Tom  Smart. 

'Tom  was  naturally  a  headlong,  careless  sort  of 
dog,  and  he  had  had  five  tumblers  of  hot  punch  into 
the  bargain;  so,  although  he  was  a  little  startled  at 
first,  he  began  to  grow  rather  indignant  when  he  saw 
the  old  gentleman  winking  and  leering  at  him  with 
such  an  impudent  air.  At  length  he  resolved  that  he 
wouldn't  stand  it;  and  as  the  old  face  still  kept  wink- 
ing away  as  fast  as  ever,  Tom  said,  in  a  very  angry 
tone — 

"What  the  devil  are  you  winking  at  me  for?" 
"Because  I  like  it,  Tom  Smart,"  said  the  chair; 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  245 

or  the  old  gentleman,  which  ever  you  like  to  call  him. 
He  stopped  winking  though,  when  Tom  spoke,  and 
began  grinning  like  a  superannuated  monkey. 

"How  do  you  know  my  name,  old  nut-cracker 
face!"  inquired  Tom  Smart,  rather  staggered;— 
though  he  pretended  to  carry  it  off  so  well. 

'  "Come,  come,  Tom,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
"that 's  not  the  way  to  address  solid  Spanish  Ma- 
hogany. Damme,  you  couldn't  treat  me  with  less 
respect  if  I  was  veneered."  When  the  old  gentleman 
said  this,  he  looked  so  fierce  that  Tom  began  to  grow 
frightened. 

'  "I  didn't  mean  to  treat  you  with  any  disrespect, 
sir,"  said  Tom;  in  a  much  humbler  tone  than  he  had 
spoken  in  at  first. 

'  "Well,  well,"  said  the  old  fellow,  "perhaps  not — 
perhaps  not.  Tom — " 

'"Sir—" 

'  "I  know  everything  about  you,  Tom;  everything. 
You  're  very  poor,  Tom." 

'  "I  certainly  am,"  said  Tom  Smart.  "But  how 
came  you  to  know  that?" 

'"Never  mind  that,"  said  the  old  gentleman; 
"you  're  much  too  fond  of  punch,  Tom." 

'Tom  Smart  was  just  on  the  point  of  protesting 
that  he  hadn't  tasted  a  drop  since  his  last  birth-day, 
but  when  his  eye  encountered  that  of  the  old  gentle- 
man, he  looked  so  knowing  that  Tom  blushed,  and  was 
silent. 

'  "Tom,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "the  widow  s  a 
fine  woman — remarkably  fine  woman — eh,  Tom?' 
Here  the  old  fellow  screwed  up  his  eyes,  cocked  up 
one  of  his  wasted  little  legs,  and  looked  altogether  so 
unpleasantly  amorous,  that  Tom  was  quite  disgusted 
with  the  levity  of  his  behaviour;— at  his  time  of  hie, 
too! 


246  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'  "I  am  her  guardian,  Tom,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

'  "Are  you?"  inquired  Tom  Smart. 
*  "I  knew  her  mother,  Tom,"  said  the  old  fellow; 
"and  her  grandmother.     She  was  very  fond  of  me— 
made  me  this  waistcoat,  Tom." 
'  "Did  she?"  said  Tom  Smart. 

'  "And  these  shoes,"  said  the  old  fellow,  lifting  up 
one  of  the  red-cloth  mufflers;  "but  don't  mention  it, 
Tom.  I  shouldn't  like  to  have  it  known  that  she  was 
so  much  attached  to  me.  It  might  occasion  some 
unpleasantness  in  the  family."  When  the  old  rascal 
said  this,  he  looked  so  extremely  impertinent,  that, 
as  Tom  Smart  afterwards  declared,  he  could  have  sat 
upon  him  without  remorse. 

"I  have  been  a  great  favourite  among  the  women 
in  my  time,  Tom,"  said  the  profligate  old  debauchee; 
"hundreds  of  fine  women  have  sat  in  my  lap  for  hours 
together.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  you  dog,  eh !" 
The  old  gentleman  was  proceeding  to  recount  some 
other  exploits  of  his  youth,  when  he  was  seized  with 
such  a  violent  fit  of  creaking  that  he  was  unable  to 
proceed. 

"Just  serves  you  right,  old  boy,"  thought  Tom 
Smart ;  but  he  didn't  say  anything. 

"Ah!"  said  the  old  fellow,  "I  am  a  good  deal 
troubled  with  this  now.  I  am  getting  old,  Tom,  and 
have  lost  nearly  all  my  rails.  I  have  had  an  operation 
performed,  too — a  small  piece  let  into  my  back — and 
I  found  it  a  severe  trial,  Tom." 

"I  dare  say  you  did,  sir,"  said  Tom  Smart. 

"However,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "that 's  not  the 
point.  Tom!  I  want  you  to  marry  the  widow." 

^Me,  sir!"  said  Tom. 

"You" ;  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"Bless  your  reverend  locks,"  said  Tom —  (he  had 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  247 

a  few  scattered  horse-hairs  left) — "bless  your  rev- 
erend locks,  she  wouldn't  have  me."  And  Tom  sighed 
involuntarily,  as  he  thought  of  the  bar. 

"Wouldn't  she?"  said  the  old  gentleman,  firmly. 
"No,  no,"  said  Tom;  "there's  somebody  else  in 
the  wind.     A  tall  man — a  confoundedly  tall  man— 
with  black  whiskers." 

"Tom,"  said  the  old  gentleman;  "she  will  never 
have  him." 

'"Won't  she?"  said  Tom.  "If  you  stood  in  the 
bar,  old  gentleman,  you  'd  tell  another  story." 

"Pooh,  pooh,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "I  know 
all  about  that." 

"About  what?"  said  Tom. 

"The  kissing  behind  the  door,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  Tom,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  And  here  he 
gave  another  impudent  look,  which  made  Tom  very 
wroth,  because  as  you  all  know,  gentlemen,  to  hear 
an  old  fellow,  who  ought  to  know  better,  talking 
about  these  things,  is  very  unpleasant — nothing  more 
so. 

'  "I  know  all  about  that,  Tom,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. "I  have  seen  it  done  very  often  in  my  time, 
Tom,  between  more  people  than  I  should  like  to  men- 
tion to  you ;  but  it  never  came  to  anything  after  all." 

'  "You  must  have  seen  some  queer  things,"  said 
Tom,  with  an  inquisitive  look. 

'  "You  may  say  that,  Tom,"  replied  the  old  fellow, 
with  a  very  complicated  wink.  "I  am  the  last  of  my 
family,  Tom,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  melan- 
choly sigh. 

'  "Was  it  a  large  one?"  inquired  Tom  Smart. 

'  "There  were  twelve  of  us,  Tom,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman; "fine  straight-backed,  handsome  fellows  as 
you  'd  wish  to  see.  None  of  your  modern  abortions- 
all  with  arms,  and  with  a  degree  of  polish,  though  I 


248  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

say  it  that  should  not,  which  would  have  done  your 
heart  good  to  behold." 

'"And  what's  become  of  the  others,  sir?"  asked 
Tom  Smart. 

'The  old  gentleman  applied  his  elbow  to  his  eye 
as  he  replied,  "Gone,  Tom,  gone.  We  had  hard 
service,  Tom,  and  they  hadn't  all  my  constitution. 
They  got  rheumatic  about  the  legs  and  arms,  and 
went  into  kitchens  and  other  hospitals;  and  one  of 
'em,  with  long  service  and  hard  usage,  positively  lost 
his  senses : — he  got  so  crazy  that  he  was  obliged  to  be 
burnt.  Shocking  thing  that,  Tom." 
'  "Dreadful!"  said  Tom  Smart. 
'The  old  fellow  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  appar- 
ently struggling  with  his  feelings  of  emotion,  and  then 
said — 

"However,  Tom,  I  am  wandering  from  the  point. 
This  tall  man,  Tom,  is  a  rascally  adventurer.  The 
moment  he  married  the  widow,  he  would  sell  off  all 
the  furniture,  and  run  away.  What  would  be  the 
consequence?  She  would  be  deserted  and  reduced  to 
ruin,  and  I  should  catch  my  death  of  cold  in  some 
broker's  shop." 

]'Yes,  but—" 

* 'Don't  interrupt  me,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
"Of  you,  Tom,  I  entertain  a  very  different  opinion; 
for  I  well  know  that  if  you  once  settled  yourself  in  a 
public  house,  you  would  never  leave  it,  as  long  as  there 
was  anything  to  drink  within  its  walls." 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  good 
opinion,  sir,"  said  Tom  Smart. 

"Therefore,"  resumed  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  dic- 
tatorial tone;  "you  shall  have  her,  and  he  shall  not." 

"What  is  to  prevent  it?"  said  Tom  Smart,  eagerly. 

"This  disclosure,"  replied  the  old  gentleman;  "he 
is  already  married." 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  249 

1  "How  can  I  prove  it?"  said  Tom,  starting  half 
out  of  bed. 

'The  old  gentleman  untucked  his  arm  from  his  side, 
and  having  pointed  to  one  of  the  oaken  presses,  im- 
mediately replaced  it  in  its  old  position. 

'  "He  little  thinks,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "that  in 
the  right-hand  pocket  of  a  pair  of  trousers  in  that 
press,  he  has  left  a  letter,  entreating  him  to  return  to 
his  disconsolate  wife,  with  six — mark  me,  Tom — six 
babes,  and  all  of  them  small  ones." 

'As  the  old  gentleman  solemnly  uttered  these  words, 
his  features  grew  less  and  less  distinct,  and  his  figure 
more  shadowy.  A  film  came  over  Tom  Smart's  eyes. 
The  old  man  seemed  gradually  blending  into  the 
chair,  the  damask  waistcoat  to  resolve  into  a  cushion, 
the  red  slippers  to  shrink  into  little  red  cloth  bags. 
The  light  faded  gently  away,  and  Tom  Smart  fell 
back  on  his  pillow,  and  dropped  asleep. 

'Morning  aroused  Tom  from  the  lethargic  slumber, 
into  which  he  had  fallen  on  the  disappearance  of  the 
old  man.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  and  for  some  minutes 
vainly  endeavoured  to  recall  the  events  of  the  preced- 
ing night.  Suddenly  they  rushed  upon  him.  He 
looked  at  the  chair ;  it  was  a  fantastic  and  grim-look- 
ing piece  of  furniture,  certainly,  but  it  must  have  been 
a  remarkably  ingenious  and  lively  imagination,  that 
could  have  discovered  any  resemblance  between  it 
and  an  old  man. 

'  "How  are  you,  old  boy?"  said  Tom.  He  was 
bolder  in  the  daylight — -most  men  are. 

'The  chair  remained  motionless,  and  spoke  not  a 
word. 

'  "Miserable  morning,"  said  Tom.  No.  The  chair 
would  not  be  drawn  into  conversation. 

'  "Which  press  did  you  point  to?— you  can  tell  me 


250  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

that,"  said  Tom.     Devil  a  word,  gentlemen,  the  chair 
would  say. 

'  "It 's  not  much  trouble  to  open  it,  anyhow,"  said 
Tom,  getting  out  of  bed  very  deliberately.  He 
walked  up  to  one  of  the  presses.  The  key  was  in  the 
lock;  he  turned  it,  and  opened  the  door.  There  was 
a  pair  of  trousers  there.  He  put  his  hand  into  the 
pocket,  and  drew  forth  the  identical  letter  the  old  gen- 
tleman had  described ! 

'  "Queer  sort  of  thing,  this,"  said  Tom  Smart;  look- 
ing first  at  the  chair  and  then  at  the  press,  and  then 
at  the  letter,  and  then  at  the  chair  again.  "Very 
queer,"  said  Tom.  But,  as  there  was  nothing  in 
either  to  lessen  the  queerness,  he  thought  he  might  as 
well  dress  himself,  and  settle  the  tall  man's  business 
at  once — just  to  put  him  out  of  his  misery. 

'Tom  surveyed  the  rooms  as  he  passed  through,  on 
his  way  downstairs,  with  the  scrutinising  eye  of  a 
landlord ;  thinking  it  not  impossible,  that  before  long, 
they  and  their  contents  would  be  his  property.  The 
tall  man  was  standing  in  the  snug  little  bar,  with  his 
hands  behind  him,  quite  at  home.  He  grinned  va- 
cantly at  Tom.  A  casual  observer  might  have  sup- 
posed he  did  it,  only  to  show  his  white  teeth ;  but  Tom 
Smart  thought  that  a  consciousness  of  triumph  was 
passing  through  the  place  where  the  tall  man's  mind 
would  have  been,  if  he  had  had  any.  Tom  laughed 
in  his  face ;  and  summoned  the  landlady. 

"Good  morning,  ma'am,"  said  Tom  Smart,  closing 
the  door  of  the  little  parlour  as  the  widow  entered. 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  said  the  widow.    "What  will 
you  take  for  breakfast,  sir?" 

'Tom  was  thinking  how  he  should  open  the  case,  so 
he  made  no  answer. 

"There  's  a  very  nice  ham,"  said  the  widow,  "and  a 
beautiful  cold  larded  fowl.     Shall  I  send  'em  in,  sir?" 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  251 

^'These  words  roused  Tom  from  his  reflections.  His 
admiration  of  the  widow  increased  as  she  spoke. 
Thoughtful  creature !  Comfortable  provider ! 

"Who  is  that  gentleman  in  the  bar,  ma'am?"  in- 
quired Tom. 

"His  name  is  Jinkins,  sir,"  said  the  widow,  slightly 
blushing. 

"He  is  a  tall  man,"  said  Tom. 

"He  's  a  very  fine  man,  sir,"  replied  the  widow, 
"and  a  very  nice  gentleman." 

"Ah!"  said  Tom. 

"Is  there  anything  more  you  want,  sir?"  inquired 
the  widow,  rather  puzzled  by  Tom's  manner. 

'  "Why,  yes,"  said  Tom.  "My  dear  ma'am,  will 
you  have  the  kindness  to  sit  down  for  one  moment?" 

'The  widow  looked  much  amazed,  but  she  sat  down, 
and  Tom  sat  down  too,  close  beside  her.  I  don't  know 
how  it  happened,  gentlemen — indeed  my  uncle  used  to 
tell  me  that  Tom  Smart  said  Tie  didn't  know  how  it 
happened  either — but  somehow  or  other  the  palm  of 
Tom's  hand  fell  upon  the  back  of  the  widow's  hand, 
and  remained  there  while  he  spoke. 

'  "My  dear  ma'am,"  said  Tom  Smart — he  had 
always  a  great  notion  of  committing  the  amiable— 
"My  dear  ma'am,  you  deserve  a  very  excellent  hus- 
band ; — you  do  indeed." 

'"Lor,  sir!"  said  the  widow — as  well  she  might: 
Tom's  mode  of  commencing  the  conversation  being 
rather  unusual,  not  to  say  startling ;  the  fact  of  his 
never  having  set  eyes  upon  her  before  the  previous 
night,  being  taken  into  consideration.  "Lor,  sir!" 

'  "I  scorn  to  flatter,  my  dear  ma'am,"  said  Tom 
Smart.  "You  deserve  a  very  admirable  husband,  and 
whoever  he  is,  he  '11  be  a  very  lucky  man."  As  Tom 
said  this  his  eye  involuntarily  wandered  from  the 
widow's  face  to  the  comforts  around  him. 


252  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'The  widow  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever,  and 
made  an  effort  to  rise.  Tom  gently  pressed  her  hand, 
as  if  to  detain  her,  and  she  kept  her  seat.  Widows, 
gentlemen,  are  not  usually  timorous,  as  my  uncle  used 
to  say. 

*  "I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for 
your  good  opinion,"  said  the  buxom  landlady,  half 
laughing;  "and  if  ever  I  marry  again — " 

'  "If"  said  Tom  Smart,  looking  very  shrewdly  out 
of  the  right-hand  corner  of  his  left  eye.  "If — " 

'  "Well,"  said  the  widow,  laughing  outright  this 
time.  "When  I  do,  I  hope  I  shall  have  as  good  a 
husband  as  you  describe." 

*  "Jinkins  to  wit,"  said  Tom. 

'  "Lor,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  widow. 

*  "Oh,  don't  tell  me,"  said  Tom,  "I  know  him." 

*  "I  am  sure  nobody  who  knows  him,  knows  any- 
thing bad  of  him,"  said  the  widow,  bridling  up  at  the 
mysterious  air  with  which  Tom  had  spoken. 

"Hem!"  said  Tom  Smart. 

'The  widow  began  to  think  it  was  high  time  to  cry, 
so  she  took  out  her  handkerchief,  and  inquired  whether 
Tom  wished  to  insult  her :  whether  he  thought  it  like 
a  gentleman  to  take  away  the  character  of  another 
gentleman  behind  his  back:  why,  if  he  had  got  any- 
thing to  say,  he  didn't  say  it  to  the  man,  like  a  man, 
instead  of  terrifying  a  poor  weak  woman  in  that  way ; 
and  so  forth. 

"I  '11  say  it  to  him  fast  enough,"  said  Tom,  "only 
I  want  you  to  hear  it  first." 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  the  widow,  looking  intently 
in  Tom's  countenance. 

"I  '11  astonish  you,"  said  Tom,  putting  his  hand  in 
his  pocket. 

"If  it  is,  that  he  wants  money,"  said  the  widow, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  253 

"I  know  that  already,  and  you  needn't  trouble  your- 
self." 

"Pooh,  nonsense,  that's  nothing,"  said  Tom 
Smart,  "I  want  money.  'Tan't  that." 

"Oh,  dear,  what  can  it  be?"  exclaimed  the  poor 
widow. 

'"Don't  be  frightened,"  said  Tom  Smart.  He 
slowly  drew  forth  the  letter,  and  unfolded  it.  "You 
won't  scream?"  said  Tom,  doubtfully. 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  widow;  "let  me  see  it." 

"You  won't  go  fainting  away,  or  any  of  that  non- 
sense?" said  Tom. 

"No,  no,"  returned  the  widow,  hastily. 

"And  don't  run  out,  and  blow  him  up,"  said  Tom, 
"because  I  '11  do  all  that  for  you;  you  had  better  not 
exert  yourself." 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  widow,  "let  me  see  it." 

"I  will,"  replied  Tom  Smart;  and,  with  these 
words,  he  placed  the  letter  in  the  widow's  hand. 

'Gentlemen,  I  have  heard  my  uncle  say,  that  Tom 
Smart  said,  the  widow's  lamentations  when  she  heard 
the  disclosure  would  have  pierced  a  heart  of  stone. 
Tom  was  certainly  very  tender-hearted,  but  they 
pierced  his,  to  the  very  core.  The  widow  rocked  her- 
self to  and  fro,  and  wrung  her  hands. 

"Oh,  the  deception  and  villainy  of  man!"  said  the 
widow. 

'  "Frightful,  my  dear  ma'am;  but  compose  your- 
self," said  Tom  Smart. 

'  "Oh,  I  can't  compose  myself,"  shrieked  the  widow. 
"I  shall  never  find  any  one  else  I  can  love  so  much!" 

'  "Oh  yes,  you  will,  my  dear  soul,"  said  Tom  Smart, 
letting  fall  a  shower  of  the  largest  sized  tears,  in  pity 
for  the  widow's  misfortunes.  Tom  Smart,  in  the 
energy  of  his  compassion,  had  put  his  Arm  round  the 


254  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

widow's  waist;  and  the  widow,  in  a  passion  of  grief, 
had  clasped  Tom's  hand.  She  looked  up  in  Tom's 
face,  and  smiled  through  her  tears.  Tom  looked 
down  in  hers,  and  smiled  through  his. 

'I  never  could  find  out,  gentlemen,  whether  Tom 
did  or  did  not  kiss  the  widow  at  that  particular  mo- 
ment. He  used  to  tell  my  uncle  he  didn't,  but  I  have 
my  doubts  about  it.  Between  ourselves,  gentlemen, 
I  rather  think  he  did. 

'At  all  events,  Tom  kicked  the  very  tall  man  out  at 
the  front  door  half  an  hour  after,  and  married  the 
widow  a  month  after.  And  he  used  to  drive  about 
the  country,  with  a  clay-coloured  gig  with  red 
wheels,  and  the  vixenish  mare  with  the  fast  pace,  till 
he  gave  up  business  many  years  afterwards,  and  went 
to  France  with  his  wife;  and  then  the  old  house  was 
pulled  down.' 

'Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,'  said  the  inquisitive 
old  gentleman,  'what  became  of  the  chair  ?' 

'Why,'  replied  the  one-eyed  bagman,  'it  was  ob- 
served to  creak  very  much  on  the  day  of  the  wedding ; 
but  Tom  Smart  couldn't  say  for  certain  whether  it  was 
with  pleasure  or  bodily  infirmity.  He  rather  thought 
it  was  the  latter,  though,  for  it  never  spoke  after- 
wards.' 

'Everybody  believed  the  story,  didn't  they?'  said  the 
dirty-faced  man,  re-filling  his  pipe. 

'Except  Tom's  enemies,'  replied  the  bagman. 
'Some  of  'em  said  Tom  invented  it  altogether;  and 
others  said  he  was  drunk,  and  fancied  it,  and  got  hold 
of  the  wrong  trousers  by  mistake  before  he  went  to 
bed.  But  nobody  ever  minded  what  they  said.' 

'Tom  said  it  was  all  true?' 

'Every  word.' 

'And  your  uncle?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  255 

'Every  letter.' 

'They  must  have  been  very  nice  men,  both  of  'em'; 
said  the  dirty-faced  man. 

'Yes,  they  were,'  replied  the  bagman;  'very  nice 
men  indeed!' 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  WHICH  IS  GIVEN  A  FAITHFUL  PORTRAITURE  OF  TWO 
DISTINGUISHED  PERSONS;  AND  AN  ACCURATE  DE- 
SCRIPTION OF  A  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  IN  THEIR  HOUSE 
AND  GROUNDS:  WHICH  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  LEADS  TO 
THE  RECOGNITION  OF  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE,  AND 
THE  COMMENCEMENT  OF  ANOTHER  CHAPTER 

MR.  PICKWICK'S  conscience  had  been  somewhat  re- 
proaching him  for  his  recent  neglect  of  his  friends 
at  the  Peacock;  and  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  walk- 
ing forth  in  quest  of  them,  on  the  third  morning  after 
the  election  had  terminated,  when  his  faithful  valet 
put  into  his  hand  a  card,  on  which  was  engraved  the 
following  inscription : — 

/IDrs*  %eo  fmnter. 

The  Den.     Eatansrvill. 


'Person  's  a  waitin','  said  Sam,  epigrammatically. 

'Does  the  person  want  me,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'He  wants  you  particklar;  and  no  one  else  '11  do,  as 
the  Devil's  private  secretary  said  ven  he  fetched  avay 
Doctor  Faustus,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'He.     Is  it  a  gentleman?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'A  wery  good  imitation  o'  one,  if  it  an't,'  replied 
Mr.  Weller. 


256  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'But  this  is  a  lady's  card/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Given  me  by  a  genTm'n,  hows'ever,'  replied  Sam, 
'and  he  's  a  \vaitin'  in  the  drawing-room — said  he  'd 
rather  wait  all  day,  than  not  see  you.' 

Mr.  Pickwick,  on  hearing  this  determination,  de- 
scended to  the  drawing-room,  where  sat  a  grave  man, 
who  started  up  on  his  entrance,  and  said,  with  an  air 
of  profound  respect — 

'Mr.  Pickwick,  I  presume?' 

'The  same.' 

'Allow  me,  sir,  the  honour  of  grasping  your  hand. 
Permit  me,  sir,  to  shake  it,'  said  the  grave  man. 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  stranger  shook  the  extended  hand,  and  then 
continued. 

'We  have  heard  of  your  fame,  sir.  The  noise  of 
your  antiquarian  discussion  has  reached  the  ears  of 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — my  wife,  sir;  I  am  Mr.  Leo 
Hunter' — the  stranger  paused,  as  if  he  expected  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  would  be  overcome  by  the  disclosure; 
but  seeing  that  he  remained  perfectly  calm,  pro- 
ceeded. 

'My  wife,  sir — Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — is  proud  to  num- 
ber among  her  acquaintance  all  those  who  have  ren- 
dered themselves  celebrated  by  their  works  and  talents. 
Permit  me,  sir,  to  place  in  a  conspicuous  part  of  the 
list  the  name  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  his  brother  mem- 
bers of  the  club  that  derives  its  name  from  him.' 

'I  shall  be  extremely  happy  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  such  a  lady,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'You  shall  make  it,  sir,'  said  the  grave  man.  'To- 
morrow morning,  sir,  we  give  a  public  breakfast — a 
fete  cliampetre — to  a  great  number  of  those  who  have 
rendered  themselves  celebrated  by  their  works  arid 
talents.  Permit  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  sir,  to  have  the 
gratification  of  seeing  you  at  the  Den.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  257 

'With  great  pleasure,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  has  many  of  these  breakfasts, 
sir,'  resumed  the  new  acquaintance — '  "feasts  of  rea- 
son, sir,  and  flows  of  soul,"  as  somebody  who  wrote  a 
sonnet  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  on  her  breakfasts,  feel- 
ingly and  originally  observed.' 

'Was  he  celebrated  for  his  works  and  talents?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 

'He  was,  sir,'  replied  the  grave  man,  'all  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter's  acquaintance  are;  it  is  her  ambition,  sir, 
to  have  no  other  acquaintance.' 

'It  is  a  very  noble  ambition,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'When  I  inform  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  that  that  re- 
mark fell  from  your  lips,  sir,  she  will  indeed  be  proud,' 
said  the  grave  man.  'You  have  a  gentleman  in  your 
train,  who  has  produced  some  beautiful  little  poems, 
I- think,  sir.' 

'My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  great  taste  for 
poetry,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'So  has  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  sir.  She  doats  on  poetry, 
sir.  She  adores  it ;  I  may  say  that  her  whole  soul  and 
mind  are  wound  up,  and  entwined  with  it.  She  has 
produced  some  delightful  pieces,  herself,  sir.  You 
may  have  met  with  her  "Ode  to  an  Expiring  Frog," 
sir.' 

'I  don't  think  I  have,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'You  astonish  me,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  'It 
created  an  immense  sensation.  It  was  signed  with  an 
"L"  and  eight  stars,  and  appeared  originally  in  a 
Lady's  Magazine.  It  commenced 

"Can  I  view  thee  panting,  lying 

On  thy  stomach,  without  sighing; 

Can  I  unmoved  see  thee  dying 
On  a  log, 
Expiring  frog !" ! 

'Beautiful!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


258  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Tine/  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  'so  simple.' 
'Very,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'The  next  verse  is  still  more  touching.  Shall  I 
repeat  it?' 

'If  you  please,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It  runs  thus,'  said  the  grave  man,  still  more  gravely. 

'  "Say,  have  fiends  in  shape  of  boys, 
With  wild  halloo,  and  brutal  noise, 
Hunted  thee  from  marshy  joys, 

With  a  dog, 
Expiring  frog !"  ' 

'Finely  expressed,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'All  point,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  'but  you  shall 
hear  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  repeat  it.  She  can  do  justice 
to  it,  sir.  She  will  repeat  it,  in  character,  sir,  to- 
morrow morning.' 

'In  character!' 

'As  Minerva.  But  I  forgot — it 's  a  fancy-dress 
breakfast/ 

'Dear  me/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing  at  his  own 
figure — 'I  can't  possibly— 

'Can't,  sir,  can't!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Leo  Hunter, 
'Solomon  Lucas,  the  Jew.  in  the  High  Street,  has 
thousands  of  fancy  dresses.  Consider,  sir,  how  many 
appropriate  characters  are  open  for  your  selection. 
Plato,  Zeno,  Epicurus,  Pythagoras — all  founders  of 
clubs/ 

'I  know  that/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'but  as  I  cannot 
put  myself  in  competition  with  those  great  men,  I 
cannot  presume  to  wear  their  dresses.' 

The  grave  man  considered  deeply,  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, and  then  said— 

'On  reflection,  sir,  I  don't  know  whether  it  would 
not  afford  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  greater  pleasure,  if  her 
guests  saw  a  gentleman  of  your  celebrity  in  his  own 
costume,  rather  than  in  an  assumed  one.  I  may  ven- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  259 

ture  to  promise  an  exception  in  your  case,  sir — yes, 
I  am  quite  certain  that  on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
I  may  venture  to  do  so.' 

'In  that  case/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  shall  have  great 
pleasure  in  coming.' 

'But  I  waste  your  time,  sir,'  said  the  grave  man,  as 
if  suddenly  recollecting  himself.  'I  know  its  value, 
sir.  I  will  not  detain  you.  I  may  tell  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter,  then,  that  she  may  confidently  expect  you  and 
your  distinguished  friends?  Good  morning,  sir,  I 
am  proud  to  have  beheld  so  eminent  a  personage— 
not  a  step,  sir;  not  a  word.'  And  without  giving  Mr. 
Pickwick  time  to  offer  remonstrance  or  denial,  Mr. 
Leo  Hunter  stalked  gravely  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  up  his  hat,  and  repaired  to  the 
Peacock,  but  Mr.  Winkle  had  conveyed  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  fancy  ball  there,  before  him. 

'Mrs.  Pott 's  going,'  were  the  first  words  with  which 
he  saluted  his  leader. 

'Is  she  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'As  Apollo,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  'Only  Pott  ob- 
jects to  the  tunic.' 

'He  is  right.  He  is  quite  right,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, emphatically. 

'Yes ; — so  she  's  going  to  wear  a  white  satin  gown 
with  gold  spangles.' 

'They'll  hardly  know  what  she's  meant  for;  will 
they?'  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Of  course  they  will,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  indig- 
nantly. 'They  '11  see  her  lyre,  won't  they  ?' 

'True;  I  forgot  that/  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'I  shall  go  as  a  Bandit/  interposed  Mr.  Tupman. 

'What !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  sudden  start. 

'As  a  bandit/  repeated  Mr.  Tupman,  mildly. 

'You  don't  mean  to  say/  said  Mr.  Pickwick^  gazing 
with  solemn  sternness  at  his  friend,  'y°u  ^on^  mean 


260  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  say,  Mr.  Tupman,  that  it  is  your  intention  to  put 
yourself  into  a  green  velvet  jacket,  with  a  two-inch 
tail?' 

'Such  is  my  intention,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman, 
warmly.  'And  why  not,  sir?' 

'Because,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considerably  ex- 
cited— 'because  you  are  too  old,  sir.' 

'Too  old!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman. 

'And  if  any  further  ground  of  objection  be  want- 
ing,' continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  'you  are  too  fat,  sir.' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  his  face  suffused  with  a 
crimson  glow.  'This  is  an  insult.' 

'Sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  same  tone,  'it  is 
not  half  the  insult  to  you,  that  your  appearance  in  my 
presence  in  a  green  velvet  jacket,  with  a  two-inch  tail, 
would  be  to  me.' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  'you  're  a  fellow.' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'you  're  another!' 

Mr.  Tupman  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  glared  at 
Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr.  Pickwick  returned  the  glare, 
concentrated  into  a  focus  by  means  of  his  spectacles, 
and  breathed  a  bold  defiance.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle  looked  on,  petrified  at  beholding  such  a  scene 
between  two  such  men. 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  after  a  short  pause,  speak- 
ing in  a  low,  deep  voice,  'you  have  called  me  old.' 

'I  have,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'And  fat.' 

'I  reiterate  the  charge.' 

'And  a  fellow.' 

'So  you  are!' 

There  was  a  fearful  pause. 

'My  attachment  to  your  person,  sir/  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man, speaking  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  and 
tucking  up  his  wristbands  meanwhile,  'is  great — very 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  261 

great — but  upon  that  person,  I  must  take  summary 
vengeance.' 

'Come  on,  sir!'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  Stimulated 
by  the  exciting  nature  of  the  dialogue,  the  heroic  man 
actually  threw  himself  into  a  paralytic  attitude,  con- 
fidently supposed  by  the  two  by-standers  to  have  been 
intended  as  a  posture  of  defence. 

'What!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  suddenly  recov- 
ering the  power  of  speech,  of  which  intense  astonish- 
ment had  previously  bereft  him,  and  rushing  between 
the  two,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  receiving  an  ap- 
plication on  the  temple  from  each,  'What!  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, with  the  eyes  of  the  world  upon  you !  Mr.  Tup- 
man  !  who,  in  common  with  us  all,  derives  a  lustre  from 
his  undying  name!  For  shame,  gentlemen;  for 
shame.' 

The  unwonted  lines  which  momentary  passion  had 
ruled  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  clear  and  open  brow,  grad- 
ually melted  away,  as  his  young  friend  spoke,  like  the 
marks  of  a  black-lead  pencil  beneath  the  softening 
influence  of  India  rubber.  His  countenance  had  re- 
sumed its  usual  benign  expression,  ere  he  concluded. 

'I  have  been  hasty,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  Very  hasty. 
Tupman;  your  hand.' 

The  dark  shadow  passed  from  Mr.  Tupman's  face, 
as  he  warmly  grasped  the  hand  of  his  friend. 

'I  have  been  hasty,  too,'  said  he. 

'No,  no,'  interrupted  Mr.  Pickwick,  'ihe  fault  was 
mine.  You  will  wear  the  green  velvet  jacket?' 

'No,  no,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman. 

'To  oblige  me,  you  will,'  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Well,  well,  I  will,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

It  was  accordingly  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,-  should  all  wear  fancy 
dresses.  Thus  Mr.  Pickwick  was  led  by  the  very 


262  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

warmth  of  his  own  good  feelings  to  give  his  consent  to 
a  proceeding  from  which  his  better  judgment  would 
have  recoiled — a  more  striking  illustration  of  his 
amiable  character  could  hardly  have  been  conceived, 
even  if  the  events  recorded  in  these  pages  had  been 
wholly  imaginary. 

Mr.  Leo  Hunter  had  not  exaggerated  the  resources 
of  Mr.  Solomon  Lucas.  His  wardrobe  was  extensive 
— very  extensive — not  strictly  classical  perhaps,  nor 
quite  new,  nor  did  it  contain  any  one  garment  made 
precisely  after  the  fashion  of  any  age  or  time,  but 
everything  was  more  or  less  spangled;  and  what  can 
be  prettier  than  spangles!  It  may  be  objected  that 
they  are  not  adapted  to  the  daylight,  but  everybody 
knows  that  they  would  glitter  if  there  were  lamps; 
and  nothing  can  be  clearer  than  that  if  people  give 
fancy  balls  in  the  daytime,  and  the  dresses  do  not 
show  quite  as  well  as  they  would  by  night,  the  fault 
lies  solely  with  the  people  who  give  the  fancy  balls, 
and  is  in  no  wise  chargeable  on  the  spangles.  Such 
was  the  convincing  reasoning  of  Mr.  Solomon  Lucas; 
and  influenced  by  such  arguments  did  Mr.  Tupman, 
Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  engage  to  array 
themselves  in  costumes  which  his  taste  and  experience 
induced  him  to  recommend  as  admirably  suited  to  the 
occasion. 

A  carriage  was  hired  from  the  Town  Arms,  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  Pickwickians,  and  a  chariot  was 
ordered  from  the  same  repository,  for  the  purpose 
of  conveying  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pott  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's 
grounds,  which  Mr.  Pott,  as  a  delicate  acknowledg- 
ment of  having  received  an  invitation,  had  already 
confidently  predicted  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette 
'would  present  a  scene  of  varied  and  delicious  enchant- 
ment— a  bewildering  coruscation  of  beauty  and  talent 
— a  lavish  and  prodigal  display  of  hospitality — above 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  263 

all,  a  degree  of  splendour  softened  by  the  most  exqui- 
site taste;  and  adornment  refined  with  perfect  har- 
mony and  the  chastest  good  keeping — compared  with 
which,  the  fabled  gorgeousness  of  Eastern  Fairy- 
land itself,  would  appear  to  be  clothed  in  as  many 
dark  and  murky  colours,  as  must  be  the  mind  of  the 
splenetic  and  unmanly  being  who  could  presume  to 
taint  with  the  venom  of  his  envy,  the  preparations 
making  by  the  virtuous  and  highly  distinguished  lady, 
at  whose  shrine  this  humble  tribute  of  admiration  was 
offered. '  This  last  was  a  piece  of  biting  sarcasm 
against  the  Independent,  who  in  consequence  of  not 
having  been  invited  at  all,  had  been  through  four  num- 
bers affecting  to  sneer  at  the  whole  affair,  in  his 
very  largest  type,  with  all  the  adjectives  in  capital 
letters. 

The  morning  came:  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  be- 
hold Mr.  Tupman  in  full  Brigand's  costume,  with  a 
very  tight  jacket,  sitting  like  a  pincushion  over  his 
back  and  shoulders:  the  upper  portion  of  his  legs 
encased  in  the  velvet  shorts,  and  the  lower  part  thereof 
swathed  in  the  complicated  bandages  to  which  all 
Brigands  are  peculiarly  attached.  It  was  pleasing  to 
see  his  open  and  ingenious  countenance,  well  mus- 
tachioed and  corked,  looking  out  from  an  open  shirt 
collar;  and  to  contemplate  the  sugar-loaf  hat,  deco- 
rated with  ribbons  of  all  colours,  which  he  was  com- 
pelled to  carry  on  his  knee,  inasmuch  as  no  known 
conveyance  with  a  top  to  it,  would  admit  of  any  man's 
carrying  it  between  his  head  and  the  roof.  Equally 
humorous  and  agreeable  was  the  appearance  of  Mr. 
Snodgrass  in  blue  satin  trunks  and  cloak,  white  silk 
tights  and  shoes,  and  Grecian  helmet:  which  every- 
body knows  (and  if  they  do  not,  Mr.  Solomon  Lucas 
did)  to  have  been  the  regular,  authentic,  every-day 
costume  of  a  Troubadour,  from  the  earliest  ages  down 


264          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  the  time  of  their  final  disappearance  from  the  face 
of  the  earth.  All  this  was  pleasant,  but  this  was  as 
nothing  compared  with  the  shouting  of  the  populace 
when  the  carriage  drew  up,  behind  Mr.  Pott's  chariot, 
which  chariot  itself  drew  up  at  Mr.  Pott's  door, 
which  door  itself  opened,  and  displayed  the  great  Pott 
accoutred  as  a  Russian  officer  of  justice,  with  a  tre- 
mendous knout  in  his  hand — -tastefully  typical  of  the 
stern  and  mighty  power  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette, 
and  the  fearful  lashings  it  bestowed  on  public  of- 
fenders. 

'Bravo!'  shouted  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod grass 
from  the  passage,  when  they  beheld  the  walking  alle- 
gory. 

'Bravo!'  Mr.  Pickwick  was  heard  to  exclaim,  from 
the  passage. 

'Hoo— roar,  Pott]'  shouted  the  populace.  Amid 
these  salutations,  Mr.  Pott,  smiling  with  that  kind  of 
bland  dignity  which  sufficiently  testified  that  he  felt 
his  power,  and  knew  how  to  exert  it,  got  into  the  char- 
iot. 

Then  there  emerged  from  the  house,  Mrs.  Pott, 
who  would  have  looked  very  like  Apollo  if  she  hadn't 
had  a  gown  on:  conducted  by  Mr.  Winkle,  who  in 
his  light-red  coat,  could  not  possibly  have  been  mis- 
taken for  anything  but  a  sportsman,  if  he  had  not 
borne  an  equal  resemblance  to  a  general  postman. 
Last  of  all  came  Mr,  Pickwick,  whom  the  boys  ap- 
plauded as  loud  as  anybody,  probably  under  the  im- 
pression that  his  tights  and  gaiters  were  some  remnants 
of  the  dark  ages ;  and  then  the  two  vehicles  proceeded 
towards  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's:  Mr.  Weller  (who  was  to 
assist  in  waiting)  being  stationed  on  the  box  of  that  in 
which  his*  master  was  seated. 

Eveiy  one  of  the  men,  women,  boys,  girls,  and 
babies,  who  were  assembled  to  see  the  visitors  in  their 


265 

fancy  dresses,  screamed  with  delight  and  ecstasy,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  Brigand  on  one  arm,  and  the 
Troubadour  on  the  other,  walked  solemnly  up  the 
entrance.  Never  were  such  shouts  heard,  as  those 
which  greeted  Mr.  Tupman's  efforts  to  fix  the  sugar- 
loaf  hat  on  his  head,  by  way  of  entering  the  garden 
in  style. 

The  preparations  were  on  the  most  delightful  scale ; 
fully  realising  the  prophetic  Pott's  anticipations  about 
the  gorgeousness  of  Eastern  Fairy-land,  and  at  once 
affording  a  sufficient  contradiction  to  the  malignant 
statements  of  the  reptile  Independent.  The  grounds 
were  more  than  an  acre  and  a  quarter  in  extent,  and 
they  were  filled  with  people !  Never  was  such  a  blaze 
of  beauty,  and  fashion,  and  literature.  There  was  the 
young  lady  who  'did'  the  poetiy  in  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette,  in  the  garb  of  a  sultana,  leaning  upon  the 
arm  of  the  young  gentleman  who  'did'  the  review  de- 
partment, and  who  was  appropriately  habited  in  a 
field-marshal's  uniform — 'the  boots  excepted.  There 
were  hosts  of  these  geniuses,  and  any  reasonable  per- 
son would  have  thought  it  honour  enough  to  meet 
them.  But  more  than  these,  there  were  half  a  dozen 
lions  from  London — authors,  real  authors,  who  had 
written  whole  books,  and  printed  them  afterwards — 
and  here  you  might  see  'em,  walking  about,  like  ordi- 
nary men,  smiling,  and  talking — aye,  and  talking 
pretty  considerable  nonsense  too,  no  doubt  with  the 
benign  intention  of  rendering  themselves  intelligible 
to  the  common  people  about  them.  Moreover,  there 
was  a  band  of  music  in  pasteboard  caps;  four  some- 
thing-ean  singers  in  the  costume  of  their  country,  and 
a  dozen  hired  waiters  in  the  costume  of  their  country 
—and  very  dirty  costume  too.  And  above  all,  there 
was  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  in  the  character  of  Minerva, 
receiving  the  company,  and  overflowing  with  pride 


266  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  gratification  at  the  notion  of  having  called  such 
distinguished  individuals  together. 

'Mr.  Pickwick,  ma'am,'  said  a  servant,  as  that  gen- 
tleman approached  the  presiding  goddess,  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand,  and  the  Brigand  and  Troubadour  on 
either  arm. 

'What!  Where!'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
starting  up,  in  an  effected  rapture  of  surprise. 

'Here,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Is  it  possible  that  I  have  really  the  gratification  of 
beholding  Mr.  Pickwick  himself!'  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Leo  Hunter. 

'No  other,  ma'am,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  bowing 
very  low.  'Permit  me  to  introduce  my  friends — Mr. 
Tupman — Mr.  Winkle — Mr.  Snodgrass — to  the  au- 
thoress of  "The  Expiring  Frog." 

Very  few  people  but  those  who  have  tried  it,  know 
what  a  difficult  process  it  is,  to  bow  in  green  velvet 
smalls,  and  a  tight  jacket,  and  high-crowned  hat:  or 
in  blue  satin  trunks  and  white  silks :  or  knee-cords  and 
top-boots  that  were  never  made  for  the  wearer,  and 
have  been  fixed  upon  him  without  the  remotest  refer- 
ence to  the  comparative  dimensions  of  himself  and  the 
suit.  Never  were  such  distortions  as  Mr.  Tupman's 
frame  underwent  in  his  efforts  to  appear  easy  and 
graceful — never  was  such  ingenious  posturing,  as  his 
fancy-dressed  friends  exhibited. 

'Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  'I  must 
make  you  promise  not  to  stir  from  my  side  the  whole 
day.  There  are  hundreds  of  people  here,  that  I  must 
positively  introduce  you  to.' 

'You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,*  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'In  the  first  place,  here  are  my  little  girls;  I  had 
almost  forgotten  them,'  said  Minerva,  carelessly  point- 
ing towards  a  couple  of  full-grown  young  ladies,  of 
whom  one  might  be  about  twenty,  and  the  other  a  year 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  267 

or  two  older,  and  who  were  dressed  in  very  juvenile 
costumes — whether  to  make  them  look  young,  or  their 
mamma  younger,  Mr.  Pickwick  does  not  distinctly 
inform  us. 

'They  are  very  beautiful,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as 
the  juveniles  turned  away,  after  being  presented. 

'They  are  very  like  their  mamma,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Pott,  majestically. 

'Oh  you  naughty  man,'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
playfully  tapping  the  Editor's  arm  with  her  fan 
(Minerva  with  a  fan!) . 

'Why  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hunter,'  said  Mr.  Pott, 
who  was  trumpeter  in  ordinary  at  the  Den,  'you  know 
that  when  your  picture  was  in  the  Exhibition  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  last  year,  everybody  inquired  whether 
it  was  intended  for  you,  or  your  youngest  daughter; 
for  you  were  so  much  alike  that  there  was  no  telling 
the  difference  between  you.' 

'Well,  and  if  they  did,  why  need  you  repeat  it,  be- 
fore strangers?'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  bestowing 
another  tap  on  the  slumbering  lion  of  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette. 

'Count,  Count,'  screamed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  to  a 
well-whiskered  individual  in  a  foreign  uniform,  who 
was  passing  by. 

'Ah!  you  want  me?'  said  the  Count,  turning  back. 

'I  want  to  introduce  two  very  clever  people  to  each 
other,'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter.  'Mr.  Pickwick,  I  have 
great  pleasure  in  introducing  to  you  Count  Smorl- 
tork.'  She  added  in  a  hurried  whisper  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick— 'the  famous  foreigner — gathering  materials  for 
his  great  work  on  England — hem! — Count  Smorltork, 
Mr.  Pickwick.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  saluted  the  Count  with  all  the  rev- 
erence due  to  so  great  a  man,  and  the  Count  drew 
.^orth  a  set  of  tablets. 


268          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'What  you  say,  Mrs.  Hunt?'  inquired  the  Count, 
smiling  graciously  on  the  gratified  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter, 
'Pig  Vig  or  Big  Vig — what  you  call — Lawyer— eh? 
I  see — that  is  it.  Big  Vig' — and  the  Count  was  pro- 
ceeding to  enter  Mr,  Pickwick  in  his  tablets,  as  a 
gentleman  of  the  long  robe,  who  derived  his  name 
from  the  profession  to  which  he  belonged,  when  Mrs. 
Leo  Hunter  interposed. 

'No,  no,  Count,'  said  the  lady,  'Pick-wick.' 

'Ah,  ah,  I  see/  replied  the  Count.  'Peek— Chris- 
tian name ;  Weeks — surname ;  good,  ver  good.  Peek 
Weeks.  How  do  you  do,  Weeks?' 

'Quite  well,  I  thank  you,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  all  his  usual  affability.  'Have  you  been  long  in 
England?' 

'Long— ver  long  time — fortnight — -more.' 

'Do  you  stay  here  long?' 

'One  week.' 

'You  will  have  enough  to  do,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling,  'to  gather  all  the  materials  you  want,  in  that 
time.' 

'Eh,  they  are  gathered,'  said  the  Count. 

'Indeed !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'They  are  here,'  added  the  Count,  tapping  his  fore- 
head significantly.  'Large  book  at  home — full  of 
notes — music,  picture,  science,  potry,  poltics;  all 
tings.' 

'The  word  politics,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'com- 
prises, in  itself,  a  difficult  study  of  no  inconsiderable 
magnitude.' 

'Ah !'  said  the  Count,  drawing  out  the  tablets  again, 
Ver  good- — fine  words  to  begin  a  chapter.  Chapter 
forty-seven.  Poltics.  The  word  poltic  surprises  by 
himself — '  And  down  went  Mr.  Pickwick's  remark, 
in  Count  Smorltork's  tablets,  with  such  variations  and 
additions  as  the  Count's  exuberant  fancy  suggested, 


269 

or  his  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  language,  occa- 
sioned. 

'Count,'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

'Mrs.  Hunt,'  replied  the  Count. 

'This  is  Mr.  Snodgrass,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pickwick's, 
and  a  poet.' 

'Stop,'  exclaimed  the  Count,  bringing  out  the  tab- 
lets once  more.  'Head,  potry — chapter,  literary 
friends— name,  Snow  grass ;  ver  good.  Introduced  to 
Snowgrass — great  poet,  friend  of  Peek  Weeks — by 
Mrs.  Hunt,  which  wrote  other  sweet  poem — what  is 
that  name?— Fog — Perspiring  Fog — ver  good — ver 
good  indeed/  And  the  Count  put  up  his  tablets,  and 
with  sundry  bows  and  acknowledgments  walked  away, 
thoroughly  satisfied  that  he  had  made  the  most  im- 
portant and  valuable  additions  to  his  stock  of  infor- 
mation. 

'Wonderful  man,  Count  Smorltork,'  said  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter. 

'Sound  philosopher,'  said  Mr.  Pott. 

'Clear-headed,  strong-minded  person,'  added  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

A  chorus  of  by-standers  took  up  the  shout  of  Count 
Smorltork's  praise,  shook  their  heads  sagely,  and 
unanimously  cried  'Very  1' 

As  the  enthusiasm  in  Count  Smorltork's  favour  ran 
very  high,  his  praises  might  have  been  sung  until  the 
end  of  the  festivities,  if  the  four  something-ean  sing- 
ers had  not  ranged  themselves  in  front  of  a  small 
apple-tree,  to  look  picturesque,  and  commenced  sing- 
ing their  national  songs,  which  appeared  by  no  means 
difficult  of  execution,  inasmuch  as  the  grand  secret 
seemed  to  be,  that  three  of  the  something-ean  singers 
should  grunt,  while  the  fourth  howled.  This  interest- 
ing performance  having  concluded  amidst  the  loud 
plaudits  of  the  whole  company,  a  boy  forthwith  pro- 


270  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ceeded  to  entangle  himself  with  the  rails  of  a  chair, 
and  to  jump  over  it,  and  crawl  under  it,  and  fall  down 
with  it,  and  do  everything  but  sit  upon  it,  and  then 
to  make  a  cravat  of  his  legs,  and  tie  them  round  his 
neck,  and  then  to  illustrate  the  ease  with  which  a 
human  being  can  be  made  to  look  like  a  magnified 
toad — all  which  feats  yielded  high  delight  and  satis- 
faction to  the  assembled  spectators.  After  which, 
the  voice  of  Mrs.  Pott  was  heard  to  chirp  faintly 
forth,  something  which  courtesy  interpreted  into  a 
song,  which  was  all  very  classical,  and  strictly  in  char- 
acter, because  Apollo  was  himself  a  composer,  and 
composers  can  very  seldom  sing  their  own  music  or 
anybody  else's,  either.  This  was  succeeded  by  Mrs. 
Leo  Hunter's  recitation  of  her  far-famed  Ode  to  an 
Expiring  Frog,  which  was  encored  once,  and  would 
have  been  encored  twice,  if  the  major  part  of  the 
guests,  who  thought  it  was  high  time  to  get  something 
to  eat,  had  not  said  that  it  was  perfectly  shameful  to 
take  advantage  of  Mrs.  Hunter's  good  nature.  So 
although  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  professed  her  perfect  will- 
ingness to  recite  the  ode  again,  her  kind  and  consid- 
erate friends  wouldn't  hear  of  it  on  any  account;  and 
the  refreshment  room  being  thrown  open,  all  the  peo- 
ple who  had  ever  been  there  before,  scrambled  in  with 
all  possible  despatch :  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  usual  course 
of  proceeding,  being,  to  issue  cards  for  a  hundred,  and 
breakfast  for  fifty,  or  in  other  words  to  feed  only  the 
very  particular  lions,  and  let  the  smaller  animals  take 
care  of  themselves. 

'Where  is  Mr.  Pott?'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  as 
she  placed  the  aforesaid  lions  around  her. 

'Here  I  am,'  said  the  editor,  from  the  remotest  end 
of  the  room ;  far  beyond  all  hope  of  food,  unless  some- 
thing was  done  for  him  by  the  hostess. 

'Won't  you  come  up  here?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  271 

'Oh  pray  don't  mind  him,'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  the 
most  obliging  voice—  'you  give  yourself  a  great  deal 
of  unnecessary  trouble,  Mrs.  Hunter.  You  '11  do 
very  well  there,  won't  you  —  dear?' 

'Certainly  —  love,'  replied  the  unhappy  Pott,  with  a 
smile.  Alas  for  the  knout!  The  nervous  arm  that 
wielded  it,  with  such  gigantic  force,  on  public  char- 
acters, was  paralysed  beneath  the  glance  of  the  im- 
perious Mrs.  Pott. 

Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  looked  round  her  in  triumph. 
Count  Smorltork  was  busily  engaged  in  taking  notes 
of  the  contents  of  the  dishes  ;  Mr.  Tupman  was  doing 
the  honours  of  the  lobster  salad  to  several  lionesses, 
with  a  degree  of  grace  which  no  Brigand  ever  ex- 
hibited before;  Mr.  Snodgrass,  having  cut  out  the 
young  gentleman  who  cut  up  the  books  for  the 
Eatanswill  Gazette,  was  engaged  in  an  impassioned 
argument  with  the  young  lady  who  did  the  poetry: 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  making  himself  universally 
agreeable.  Nothing  seemed  wanting  to  render  the 
select  circle  complete,  when  Mr.  Leo  Hunter  —  whose 
department  on  these  occasions,  was  to  stand  about  in 
doorways,  and  talk  to  the  less  important  people  —  sud- 
denly called  out  — 

'My  dear;  here  's  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall.' 

'Oh  dear,'  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  'how  anxiously 
I  have  been  expecting  him.  Pray  make  room  to  let 
Mr.  Fitz-Marshall  pass.  Tell  Mr.  Fitz-Marshall,  my 
dear,  to  come  up  to  me  directly,  to  be  scolded  for  com- 
ing so  late.' 

'Coming,  my  dear  ma'am,'  cried  a  voice,  'as  quick 
as  I  can  —  crowds  of  people  —  full  room  —  hard  work— 


Mr.  Pickwick's  knife  and  fork  fell  from  his  hand. 
He  stared  across  the  table  at  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had 
dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  and  was  looking  as  if  he 


272  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

were  about  to  sink  into  the  ground  without  further 
notice. 

'Ah!'  cried  the  voice,  as  its  owner  pushed  his  way 
among  the  last  five  and  twenty  Turks,  officers,  cava- 
liers, and  Charles  the  Seconds,  that  remained  between 
him  and  the  table,  'regular  mangle— Baker's  patent- 
not  a  crease  in  my  coat,  after  all  this  squeezing — • 
might  have  "got  up  my  linen'*  as  I  came  along— ha! 
ha!  not  a  bad  idea,  that — queer  thing  to  have  it 
mangled  when  it 's  upon  one,  though— trying  process 
—very/ 

With  these  broken  words,  ft  young  man  dressed  as 
a  naval  officer  made  his  way  up  to  the  table,  and  pre- 
sented to  the  astonished  Pickwiekians,  the  identical 
form  and  features  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle. 

The  offender  had  barely  time  to  take  Mrs.  Leo 
Hunter's  proffered  hand,  when  his  eyes  encountered 
the  indignant  orbs  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Hallo!'  said  Jingle.  'Quite  forgot — no  directions 
to  postilion — give  'em  at  once— back  in  a  minute/ 

'The  servant,  or  Mr.  Hunter  will  do  it  in  a  moment, 
Mr.  Fitz-Marshall/  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

'No,  no— I  '11  do  it— shan't  be  long— back  in  no 
time/  replied  Jingle.  With  these  words  he  disap* 
peared  among  the  crowd. 

'Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  mVam,'  said  the 
excited  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  from  his  seat,  'who  that 
young  man  is,  and  where  he  resides1/ 

'He  is  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  'to  whom  I  very  much  want  to 
introduce  you.  The  Count  will  be  delighted  with 
him/ 

'Yes,  yes/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily.  'His  resi- 
dence—' 

'Is  at  present  at  the  Angel  at  Bury/ 

'At  Bury  ?' 


'At  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  not  many  miles  from  here. 
But  dear  me,  Mr.  Pickwick,  you  are  not  going  to 
leave  us :  surely,  Mr.  Pickwick,  you  cannot  think  of 
going  so  soon.' 

But  long  before  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  had  finished 
speaking,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  plunged  through  the 
throng,  and  reached  the  garden,  whither  he  was  shortly 
afterwards  joined  by  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  followed 
his  friend  closely. 

'It 's  of  no  use/  said  Mr.  Tupman.     'He  has  gone.' 

'I  know  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'and  I  will  follow 
him.' 

'Follow  him !     Where  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

'To  the  Angel  at  Bury,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
speaking  very  quickly.  'How  do  we  know  whom  he  is 
deceiving  there?  He  deceived  a  worthy  man  once, 
and  we  were  the  innocent  cause.  He  shall  not  do  it 
again,  if  I  can  help  it ;  I  '11  expose  him !  Where  's  my 
servant  ?' 

'Here  you  are,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  emerging  from 
a  sequestered  spot,  where  he  had  been  engaged  in  dis- 
cussing a  bottle  of  Madeira,  which  he  had  abstracted 
from  the  breakfast-table,  an  hour  or  two  before. 
'Here  's  your  servant,  sir.  Proud  o'  the  title,  as  the 
Living  Skellinton  said,  ven  they  show'd  him.' 

'Follow  me  instantly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Tup- 
man, if  I  stay  at  Bury,  you  can  join  me  there,  when 
I  write.  Till  then,  good-bye!' 

Remonstrances  were  useless.  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
roused,  and  his  mind  was  made  up.  Mr.  Tupman 
returned  to  his  companions ;  and  in  another  hour  had 
drowned  all  present  recollection  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle, 
or  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall,  in  an  exhilarating 
quadrille  and  a  bottle  of  champagne.  By  that  time, 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller,  perched  on  the  out- 
side of  a  stage  coach,  were  every  succeeding  minute 


274  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

placing  a  less  and  less  distance  between  themselves 
and  the  good  old  town  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TOO   FULL   OF   ADVENTURE    TO    BE    BRIEFLY   DESCRIBED 

THERE  is  no  month  in  the  whole  year,  in  which  nature 
wears  a  more  beautiful  appearance  than  in  the  month 
of  August.  Spring  has  many  beauties,  and  May  is 
a  fresh  and  blooming  month,  but  the  charms  of  this 
time  of  year,  are  enhanced  by  their  contrast  with  the 
winter  season.  August  has  no  such  advantage.  It 
comes  when  we  remember  nothing  but  clear  skies, 
green  fields,  and  sweet-smelling  flowers — when  the 
recollection  of  snow,  and  ice,  and  bleak  winds,  has 
faded  from  our  minds  as  completely  as  they  have  dis- 
appeared from  the  earth, — and  yet  what  a  pleasant 
time  it  is !  Orchards  and  cornfields  ring  with  the  hum 
of  labour ;  trees  bend  beneath  the  thick  clusters  of  rich 
fruit  which  bow  their  branches  to  the  ground;  and 
the  corn,  piled  in  graceful  sheaves,  or  waving  in  every 
light  breath  that  sweeps  above  it,  as  if  it  wooed  the 
sickle,  tinges  the  landscape  with  a  golden  hue.  A 
mellow  softness  appears  to  hang  over  the  whole  earth ; 
the  influence  of  the  season  seems  to  extend  itself  to 
the  very  waggon,  whose  slow  motion  across  the  well- 
reaped  field,  is  perceptible  only  to  the  eye,  but  strikes 
with  no  harsh  sound  upon  the  ear. 

As  the  coach  rolls  swiftly  past  the  fields  and 
orchards  which  skirt  the  road,  groups  of  women  and 
children,  piling  the  fruit  in  sieves,  or  gathering  the 
scattered  ears  of  corn,  pause  for  an  instant  from  their 
labour,  and  shading  the  sun-burnt  face  with  a  still 
browner  hand,  gaze  upon  the  passengers  with  curious 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  275 

eyes,  while  some  stout  urchin,  too  small  to  work,  but 
too  mischievous  to  be  left  at  home,  scrambles  over  the 
side  of  the  basket  in  which  he  has  been  deposited  for 
security,  and  kicks  and  screams  with  delight.  The 
reaper  stops  in  his  work,  and  stands  with  folded  arms, 
looking  at  the  vehicle  as  it  whirls  past;  and  the  rough 
cart  horses  bestow  a  sleepy  glance  upon  the  smart 
coach  team,  which  says,  as  plainly  as  a  horse's  glance 
can,  'It 's  all  very  fine  to  look  at,  but  slow  going, 
over  a  heavy  field,  is  better  than  warm  work  like  that, 
upon  a  dusty  road,  after  all.'  You  cast  a  look  behind 
you,  as  you  turn  a  corner  of  the  road.  The  women 
and  children  have  resumed  their  labour:  the  reaper 
once  more  stoops  to  his  work:  the  cart-horses  have 
moved  on :  and  all  are  again  in  motion. 

The  influence  of  a  scene  like  this,  was  not  lost  upon 
the  well-regulated  mind  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  Intent 
upon  the  resolution  he  had  formed,  of  exposing  the 
real  character  of  the  nefarious  Jingle,  in  any  quarter 
in  which  he  might  be  pursuing  his  fraudulent  designs, 
he  sat  at  first  taciturn  and  contemplative,  brooding 
over  the  means  by  which  his  purpose  could  be  best 
attained.  By  degrees  his  attention  grew  more  and 
more  attracted  by  the  objects  around  him;  and  at  last 
he  derived  as  much  enjoyment  from  the  ride,  as  if  it 
had  been  undertaken  for  the  pleasantest  reason  in  the 
world. 

'Delightful  prospect,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Beats  the  chimbley  pots,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
touching  his  hat. 

'I  suppose  you  have  hardly  seen  anything  but  chim- 
ney-pots and  bricks  and  mortar  all  your  life,  Sam,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling. 

'I  worn't  always  a  boots,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with 
a  shake  of  the  head.  'I  wos  a  vagginer's  boy,  once.' 

'When  was  that?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 


276  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'When  I  wos  first  pitched  neck  and  crop  into  the 
world,  to  play  at  leap-frog  with  its  troubles,'  replied 
Sam.  'I  wos  a  carrier's  boy  at  startin':  then  a  vag- 
giner's,  then  a  helper,  then  a  boots.  Now  I  'm  a 
gen'l'm'n's  servant,  I  shall  be  a  genTm'n  myself  one 
of  these  days,  perhaps,  with  a  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and 
a  summer-house  in  the  back  garden.  Who  knows? 
Z  shouldn't  be  surprised,  for  one.' 

'You  are  quite  a  philosopher,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'It  runs  in  the  family,  I  b'lieve,  sir,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller.  'My  father  's  wery  much  in  that  line,  now. 
If  my  mother-in-law  blows  him  up,  he  whistles.  She 
flies  in  a  passion,  and  breaks  his  pipe;  he  steps  out, 
and  gets  another.  Then  she  screams  wery  loud,  and 
falls  into  'sterics;  and  he  smokes  wery  comfortably 
till  she  comes  to  agin,  That 's  philosophy,  sir,  an't 
it?' 

'A  very  good  substitute  for  it,  at  all  events,'  replied 
Mr,  Pickwick,  laughing.  'It  must  have  been  of 
great  service  to  you,  in  the  course  of  your  rambling 
life,  Sam,' 

'Service,  sir,'  exclaimed  Sam.  'You  may  say  that. 
Arter  I  ran  away  from  the  carrier,  and  afore  I  took 
up  with  the  vagginer,  I  had  unfurnished  lodgin's  for 
a  fortnight.' 

'Unfurnished  lodgings?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes — the  dry  arches  of  Waterloo  Bridge.  Fine 
sleeping-place — within  ten  minutes'  walk  of  all  the 
public  offices — only  if  there  is  any  objection  to  it,  it 
is  that  the  sitivation  's  rayther  too  airy.  I  see  some 
queer  sights  there.' 

'Ah,  I  suppose  you  did,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
an  air  of  considerable  interest. 

'Sights,  sir,'  resumed  Mr.  Weller,  'as  'ud  penetrate 
your  benevolent  heart,  and  come  out  on  the  other  side. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  277 

You  don't  see  the  reg'lar  wagrants  there;  trust  'em, 
they  knows  better  than  that.  Young  beggars,  male 
and  female,  as  hasn't  made  a  rise  in  their  profession, 
takes  up  their  quarters  there  sometimes ;  but  it 's  gen- 
erally the  worn-out,  starving,  houseless  creeturs  as 
rolls  themselves  in  the  dark  corners  o'  them  lonesome 
places — poor  creeturs  as  an't  up  to  the  twopenny 
rope.' 

'And  pray,  Sam,  what  is  the  twopenny  rope?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 

'The  twopenny  rope,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'is 
just  a  cheap  lodgin'  house,  where  the  beds  is  twopence 
a  night.' 

'What  do  they  call  a  bed  a  rope  for?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Bless  your  innocence,  sir,  that  an't  it,'  replied  Sam. 
'Wen  the  lady  and  gen'l'm'n  as  keeps  the  Hot-el  first 
begun  business  they  used  to  make  the  beds  on  the 
floor;  but  this  wouldn't  do  at  no  price,  'cos  instead  o' 
taking  a  moderate  twopenn'orth  o'  sleep,  the  lodgers 
used  to  lie  there  half  the  day.  So  now  they  has  two 
ropes,  'bout  six  foot  apart,  and  three  from  the  floor, 
which  goes  right  down  the  room;  and  the  beds  are 
made  of  slips  of  coarse  sacking,  stretched  across  'em.' 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'the  adwantage  o'  the 
plan  's  hobvious.  At  six  o'clock  every  mornin'  they 
lets  go  the  ropes  at  one  end,  and  down  falls  all  the 
lodgers.  'Consequence  is,  that  being  thoroughly 
waked,  they  get  up  wery  quietly,  and  walk  away! 
Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  Sam,  suddenly  breaking 
off  in  his  loquacious  discourse.  'Is  this  Bury  St. 
Edmunds?' 

'It  is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  coach  rattled  through  the  well-paved  streets 
of  a  handsome  little  town,  of  thriving  and  cleanly 


278  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

appearance,  and  stopped  before  a  large  inn  situated 
in  a  wide  open  street,  nearly  facing  the  old  abbey. 

'And  this,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up,  'is  the 
Angel!  We  alight  here,  Sam.  But  some  caution  is 
necessary.  Order  a  private  room,  and  do  not  men- 
tion my  name.  You  understand.' 

'Right  as  a  trivet,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  with  a 
wink  of  intelligence;  and  having  dragged  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's portmanteau  from  the  hind  boot,  into  which  it 
had  been  hastily  thrown  when  they  joined  the  coach 
at  Eatanswill,  Mr.  Weller  disappeared  on  his  errand. 
A'  private  room  was  speedily  engaged,  and  into  it 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  ushered  without  delay. 

'Now,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'the  first  thing  to 
be  done  is  to— 

'Order  dinner,  sir,'  interposed  Mr.  Weller.  'It 's 
wery  late,  sir.' 

'Ah,  so  it  is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  his 
watch.  'You  are  right,  Sam.' 

'And  if  I  might  adwise,  sir,'  added  Mr.  Weller, 
'I  'd  just  have  a  good  night's  rest  arter wards,  and  not 
begin  inquiring  arter  this  here  deep  'un  till  the 
mornin'.  There  's  nothin'  so  refreshin'  as  sleep,  sir, 
as  the  servant-girl  said  afore  she  drank  the  egg-cupful 
o'  laudanum.' 

'I  think  you  are  right,  Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'But  I  must  first  ascertain  that  he  is  in  the  house, 
and  not  likely  to  go  away.' 

'Leave  that  to  me,  sir,'  said  Sam.  'Let  me  order 
you  a  snug  little  dinner,  and  make  my  inquiries  be- 
low while  it 's  a  getting  ready ;  I  could  worm  ev'ry 
secret  out  o'  the  boots's  heart,  in  five  minutes,  sir.' 

'Do  so,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  and  Mr.  Weller  at 
once  retired. 

In  half  an  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  seated  at  a 
very  satisfactory  dinner;  and  in  three-quarters  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  279 

Weller  returned  with  the  intelligence  that  Mr.  Charles 
Fitz-Marshall  had  ordered  his  private  room  to  be 
retained  for  him,  until  further  notice.  He  was  going 
to  spend  the  evening  at  some  private  house  in  the 
neighbourhood,  had  ordered  the  boots  to  sit  up  until 
his  return,  and  had  taken  his  servant  with  him. 

'Now,  sir,'  argued  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  had  con- 
cluded his  report,  'if  I  can  get  a  talk  with  this  here 
servant  in  the  mornin',  he  '11  tell  me  all  his  master's 
concerns.' 

'How  do  you  know  that?'  interposed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Bless  your  heart,  sir,  servants  always  do,'  replied 
Mr.  Weller. 

'Oh,  ah,  I  forgot  that,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Well.' 

'Then  you  can  arrange  what 's  best  to  be  done,  sir, 
and  we  can  act  according.' 

As  it  appeared  that  this  was  the  best  arrangement 
that  could  be  made,  it  was  finally  agreed  upon.  Mr. 
Weller,  by  his  master's  permission,  retired  to  spend 
the  evening  in  his  own  way;  and  was  shortly  after- 
wards elected,  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  assem- 
bled company,  into  the  tap-room  chair,  in  which  hon- 
ourable post  he  acquitted  himself  so  much  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  gentlemen-frequenters,  that  their 
roars  of  laughter  and  approbation  penetrated  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  bed-room,  and  shortened  the  term  of  his 
natural  rest  by  at  least  three  hours. 

Early  on  the  ensuing  morning,  Mr.  Weller  was 
dispelling  all  the  feverish  remains  of  the  previous 
evening's  conviviality,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
a  halfpenny  shower-bath  (having  induced  a  young 
gentleman  attached  to  the  stable-department,  by  the 
offer  of  that  coin,  to  pump  over  his  head  and  face, 
until  he  was  perfectly  restored),  when  he  was  at- 
tracted by  the  appearance  of  a  young  fellow  in  mul- 


230  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

berry-coloured  livery,  who  was  sitting  on  a  bench  in 
the  yard,  reading  what  appeared  to  be  a  hymn-book, 
with  an  air  of  deep  abstraction,  but  who  occasionally 
stole  a  glance  at  the  individual  under  the  pump,  as  if 
he  took  some  interest  in  his  proceedings,  nevertheless. 

'You're  a  rum  'un  to  look  at,  you  are!'  thought 
Mr.  Weller,  the  first  time  his  eyes  encountered  the 
glance  of  the  stranger  in  the  mulberry  suit:  who  had 
a  large,  sallow,  ugly  face,  very  sunken  eyes,  and  a 
gigantic  head,  from  which  depended  a  quantity  of 
lank  black  hair.  'You  're  a  rum  'un !'  thought  Mr. 
Weller;  and  thinking  this,  he  went  on  washing  him- 
self, and  thought  no  more  about  him. 

Still  the  man  kept  glancing  from  his  hymn-book 
to  Sam,  and  from  Sam  to  his  hymn-book,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  open  a  conversation.  So  at  last,  Sam,  by 
way  of  giving  him  an  opportunity,  said,  with  a 
familiar  nod — 

'How  are  you,  governor?' 

'I  am  happy  to  say,  I  am  pretty  well,  sir,'  said  the 
man,  speaking  with  great  deliberation,  and  closing 
the  book.  'I  hope  you  are  the  same,  sir?' 

'Why,  if  I  felt  less  like  a  walking  brandy-bottle, 
I  shouldn't  be  quite  so  staggery  this  mornin','  replied 
Sam.  'Are  you  stoppin'  in  this  house,  old  'un  ?' 

The  mulberry  man  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

'How  was  it,  you  worn't  one  of  us,  last  night?' 
inquired  Sam,  scrubbing  his  face  with  the  towel. 
'You  seem  one  of  the  jolly  sort — looks  as  conwivial 
as  a  live  trout  in  a  lime  basket,'  added  Mr.  Weller, 
in  an  undertone. 

'I  was  out  last  night,  with  my  master,'  replied  the 
stranger. 

'What 's  his  name?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  colouring 
up  very  red  with  sudden  excitement,  and  the  friction 
of  the  towel  combined. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  281 

Titz-Marshall,'  said  the  mulberry  man. 

'Give  us  your  hand,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  advancing; 
'I  should  like  to  know  you.  I  like  your  appearance, 
old  fellow.' 

'Well,  that  is  very  strange,'  said  the  mulberry  man, 
with  great  simplicity  of  manner.  'I  like  yours  so 
much,  that  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  from  the  very 
first  moment  I  saw  you  under  the  pump.' 

'Did  you  though?' 

'Upon  my  word.     Now,  isn't  that  curious?' 

'Wery  sing'ler,'  said  Sam,  inwardly  congratulating 
himself  upon  the  softness  of  the  stranger.  'What 's 
your  name,  my  patriarch  ?' 

'Job.' 

'And  a  wery  good  name  it  is — only  one  I  know, 
that  ain't  got  a  nickname  to  it.  What 's  the  other 
name?' 

'Trotter,'  said  the  stranger.     'What  is  yours?' 

Sam  bore  in  mind  his  master's  caution,  and  re- 
plied— 

'My  name  's  Walker ;  my  master's  name  's  Wil- 
kins.  Will  you  take  a  drop  o'  somethin'  this  mornin', 
Mr.  Trotter?' 

Mr.  Trotter  acquiesced  in  this  agreeable  proposal: 
and  having  deposited  his  book  in  his  coat-pocket,  ac- 
companied Mr.  Weller  to  the  tap,  where  they  were 
soon  occupied  in  discussing  an  exhilarating  com- 
pound, formed  by  mixing  together,  in  a  pewter  vessel, 
certain  quantities  of  British  Hollands,  and  the  fra- 
grant essence  of  the  clove. 

'And  what  sort  of  place  have  you  got?'  inquired 
Sam,  as  he  filled  his  companion's  glass,  for  the  second 
eo 

'Bad,'  said  Job,  smacking  his  lips,  'very  bad.' 

'You  don't  mean  that?'  said  Sam. 


282  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  do,  indeed.  Worse  than  that,  my  master's 
going  to  be  married.' 

'No.' 

'Yes ;  and  worse  than  that,  too,  he  's  going  to  run 
away  with  an  immense  rich  heiress,  from  boarding- 
school.' 

'What  a  dragon!'  said  Sam,  refilling  his  compan- 
ion's glass.  'It 's  some  boarding-school  in  this  town, 
I  suppose,  an't  it?' 

Now,  although  this  question  was  put  in  the  most 
careless  tone  imaginable,  Mr.  Job  Trotter  plainly 
showed  by  gestures,  that  he  perceived  his  new  friend's 
anxiety  to  draw  forth  an  answer  to  it.  He  emptied 
his  glass,  looked  mysteriously  at  his  companion, 
winked  both  of  his  small  eyes,  one  after  the  other, 
and  finally  made  a  motion  with  his  arm,  as  if  he  were 
working  an  imaginary  pump-handle:  thereby  inti- 
mating that  he  (Mr.  Trotter)  considered  himself  as 
undergoing  the  process  of  being  pumped,  by  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller. 

'No,  no,'  said  Mr.  Trotter,  in  conclusion,  'that 's 
not  to  be  told  to  everybody.  That  is  a  secret — a 
great  secret,  Mr.  Walker.' 

As  the  mulberry  man  said  this,  he  turned  his  glass 
upside  down,  as  a  means  of  reminding  his  companion 
that  he  had  nothing  left  wherewith  to  slake  his  thirst. 
Sam  observed  the  hint ;  and  feeling  the  delicate  man- 
ner in  which  it  was  conveyed,  ordered  the  pewter 
vessel  to  be  refilled,  whereat  the  small  eyes  of  the 
mulberry  man  glistened. 

'And  so  it 's  a  secret?'  said  Sam. 

'I  should  rather  suspect  it  was,'  said  the  mulberry 
man,  sipping  his  liquor,  with  a  complacent  face. 

'I  suppose  your  mas'r  's  wery  rich?'  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Trotter  smiled,  and  holding  his  glass  in  his 
left  hand,  gave  four  distinct  slaps  on  the  pocket  of 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  283 

his  mulberry  indescribables  with  his  right,  as  if  to 
intimate  that  his  master  might  have  done  the  same 
without  alarm  ng  anybody  much,  by  the  chinking  of 
coin. 

'Ah,'  said  Sam,  'that 's  the  game,  is  it?' 

The  muflberry  man  nodded  significantly. 

'Well,  and  don't  you  think,  old  feller,'  remon- 
strated Mr.  Weller,  'that  if  you  let  your  master  take 
in  this  here  young  lady,  you  're  a  precious  rascal?' 

'I  know  that,'  said  Job  Trotter,  turning  upon  his 
companion  a  countenance  of  deep  contrition,  and 
groaning  slightly.  'I  know  that,  and  that 's  what  it 
is  that  preys  upon  my  mind.  But  what  am  I  to  do?' 

'Do!'  said  Sam;  'di-wulge  to  the  missis,  and  give 
up  your  master.' 

'Who'd  believe  me?'  replied  Job  Trotter.  'The 
young  lady  's  considered  the  very  picture  of  inno- 
cence and  discretion.  She  'd  deny  it,  and  so  would 
my  master.  Who  'd  believe  me?  I  should  lose  my 
place,  and  get  indicted  for  a  conspiracy,  or  some  such 
thing;  that 's  all  I  should  take  by  my  motion.' 

'There's  somethin'  in  that/  said  Sam,  ruminating; 
'there  's  somethin'  in  that.' 

'If  I  knew  any  respectable  gentleman  who  would 
take  the  matter  up,'  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  'I  might 
have  some  hope  of  preventing  the  elopement;  but 
there  's  the  same  difficulty,  Mr.  Walker,  just  the 
same.  I  know  no  gentleman  in  this  strange  place, 
and  ten  to  one  if  I  did,  whether  he  would  believe  my 
story.' 

'Come  this  way,'  said  Sam,  suddenly  jumping^  up, 
and  grasping  the  mulberry  man  by  the  arm.  'My 
mas'r  's  the  man  you  want,  I  see.'  And  after  a  slight 
resistance  on  the  part  of  Job  Trotter,  Sam  led  his 
newly-found  friend  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, to  whom  he  presented  him,  together  with  a 


284  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

brief  summary  of  the  dialogue  we  have  just  repeated. 

'I  am  very  sorry  to  betray  my  master,  sir,'  said 
Job  Trotter,  applying  to  his  eyes  a  pink  checked 
pocket  handkerchief  about  six  inches  square. 

'The  feeling  does  you  a  great  deal  of  honour,'  re- 
plied Mr.  Pickwick;  'but  it  is  your  duty,  neverthe- 
less.' 

'I  know  it  is  my  duty,  sir/  replied  Job,  with  great 
emotion.  'We  should  all  try  to  discharge  our  duty, 
sir,  and  I  humbly  endeavour  to  discharge  mine,  sir; 
but  it  is  a  hard  trial  to  betray  a  master,  sir,  whose 
clothes  you  wear,  and  whose  bread  you  eat,  even 
though  he  is  a  scoundrel,  sir.' 

'You  are  a  very  good  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
much  affected,  'an  honest  fellow.' 

'Come,  come,'  interposed  Sam,  who  had  witnessed 
Mr.  Trotter's  tears  with  considerable  impatience, 
'blow  this  here  water-cart  bis'ness.  It  won't  do  no 
good,  this  won't/ 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  reproachfully,  'I  am 
sorry  to  find  that  you  have  so  little  respect  for  this 
young  man's  feelings.' 

'His  feelin's  is  all  wery  well,  sir,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller;  'and  as  they  're  so  wery  fine,  and  it 's  a  pity 
he  should  lose  'em,  I  think  he  'd  better  keep  'em  in 
his  own  buzzum,  than  let  'em  ewaporate  in  hot  water, 
'specially  as  they  do  no  good.  Tears  never  yet 
wound  up  a  clock,  or  worked  a  steam  ingen'.  The 
next  time  you  go  out  to  a  smoking  party,  young 
fellow,  fill  your  pipe  with  that  'ere  reflection;  and 
for  the  present  just  put  that  bit  of  pink  gingham 
into  your  pocket.  'Tan't  so  handsome  that  you  need 
keep  waving  it  about,  as  if  you  was  a  tight-rope 
dancer.' 

'My  man  is  in  the  right,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  accost- 
ing Job,  'although  his  mode  of  expressing  his  opinion 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  285 

is  somewhat  homely,  and  occasionally  incompre- 
hensible.' 

'He  is,  sir,  very  right,'  said  Mr.  Trotter,  'and  I  will 
give  way  no  longer.' 

'Very  well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Now,  where  is  this 
boarding-school  ?' 

'It  is  a  large,  old,  red-brick  house,  just  outside  the 
town,  sir,'  replied  Job  Trotter. 

'And  when,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'when  is  this  vil- 
lainous design  to  be  carried  into  execution — when  is 
this  elopement  to  take  place?' 

'To-night,  sir,'  replied  Job. 

'To-night!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'This  very  night,  sir,'  replied  Job  Trotter.  'That 
is  what  alarms  me  so  much.' 

'Instant  measures  must  be  taken,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'I  will  see  the  lady  who  keeps  the  establish- 
ment immediately.' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  Job,  'but  that  course 
of  proceeding  will  never  do.' 

'Why  not?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'My  master,  sir,  is  a  very  artful  man.' 

'I  know  he  is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'And  he  has  so  wound  himself  round  the  old  lady's 
heart,  sir,'  resumed  Job,  'that  she  would  believe 
nothing  to  his  prejudice,  if  you  went  down  on  your 
bare  knees,  and  swore  it;  especially  as  }Tou  have  no 
proof  but  the  word  of  a  servant,  who,  for  anything 
she  knows  (and  my  master  would  be  sure  to  say  so), 
was  discharged  for  some  fault,  and  does  this  in  re- 
venge.' 

'What  had  better  be  done,  then?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Nothing  but  taking  him  in  the  very  fact  of  elop- 
ing, will  convince  the  old  lady,  sir,'  replied  Job. 


286  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'All  them  old  cats  will  run  their  heads  agin  mile- 
stones,' observed  Mr.  Weller  in  a  parenthesis. 

'But  this  taking  him  in  the  very  act  of  elopement, 
would  be  a  very  difficult  thing  to  accomplish,  I  fear,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  don't  know,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Trotter,  after  a  few 
moments'  reflection.  'I  think  it  might  be  very  easily 
done.' 

'How?'  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  inquiry. 

'Why,'  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  'my  master  and  I, 
being  in  the  confidence  of  the  two  servants,  will  be 
secreted  in  the  kitchen  at  ten  o'clock.  When  the 
family  have  retired  to  rest,  we  shall  come  out  of  the 
kitchen,  and  the  young  lady  out  of  her  bed-room.  A 
post-chaise  will  be  waiting,  and  away  we  go.' 

'Well?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Well,  sir,  I  have  been  thinking  that  if  you  were  in 
waiting  in  the  garden  behind,  alone — ' 

'Alone,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Why  alone?' 

'I  thought  it  very  natural,'  replied  Job,  'that  the 
old  lady  wouldn't  like  such  an  unpleasant  discovery 
to  be  made  before  more  persons  than  can  possibly  be 
helped.  The  young  lady  too,  sir — consider  her  feel- 
ings.' 

'You  are  very  right,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'The 
consideration  evinces  your  delicacy  of  feeling.  Go 
on ;  you  are  very  right.' 

'Well,  sir,  I  have  been  thinking  that  if  you  were 
waiting  in  the  back  garden  alone,  and  I  was  to  let 
you  in,  at  the  door  which  opens  into  it,  from  the 
end  of  the  passage,  at  exactly  half -past  eleven  o'clock, 
you  would  be  just  in  the  very  moment  of  time  to 
assist  me  in  frustrating  the  designs  of  this  bad  man, 
by  whom  I  have  been  unfortunately  ensnared.'  Here 
Mr.  Trotter  sighed  deeply. 

'Don't  distress  yourself  on  that  account,'  said  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  28? 

Pickwick,  'if  he  had  one  grain  of  the  delicacy  of 
feeling  which  distinguishes  you,  humble  as  your  sta- 
tion is,  I  should  have  some  hopes  of  him.' 

Job  Trotter  bowed  low;  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Weller's 
previous  remonstrance,  the  tears  again  rose  to  his  eyes. 

'I  never  see  such  a  feller,'  said  Sam.  'Blessed  if  I 
don't  think  he  's  got  a  main  in  his  head  as  is  always 
turned  on.' 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  severity. 
'Hold  your  tongue.' 

'Wery  well,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  don't  like  this  plan,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
deep  meditation.  'Why  cannot  I  communicate  with 
the  young  lady's  friends?' 

'Because  they  live  one  hundred  miles  from  here, 
sir,'  responded  Job  Trotter. 

'That 's  a  clincher,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  aside. 

'Then  this  garden,'  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick.  'How 
am  I  to  get  into  it?' 

'The  wall  is  very  low,  sir,  and  your  servant  will  give 
you  a  leg  up.' 

'My  servant  will  give  me  a  leg  up,'  repeated  Mr. 
Pickwick,  mechanically.  'You  will  be  sure  to  be  near 
this  door  that  you  speak  of?' 

'You  cannot  mistake  it,  sir;  it 's  the  only  one  that 
opens  into  the  garden.  Tap  at  it  when  you  hear  the 
clock  strike,  and  I  will  open  it  instantly.' 

'I  don't  like  the  plan,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'but  as 
I  see  no  other,  and  as  the  happiness  of  this  young 
lady's  whole  life  is  at  stake,  I  adopt  it.  I  shall  be 
sure  to  be  there.' 

Thus,  for  the  second  time,  did  Mr.  Pickwick's 
innate  good  feeling  involve  him  in  an  enterprise  from 
which  he  would  most  willingly  have  stood  aloof. 

'What  is  the  name  of  the  house?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 


288  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Westgate  House,  sir.  You  turn  a  little  to  the 
right  when  you  get  to  the  end  of  the  town ;  it  stands 
by  itself,  some  little  distance  off  the  high  road,  with 
the  name  on  a  brass  plate  on  the  gate.' 

'I  know  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  observed  it 
once  before,  when  I  was  in  this  town.  You  may  de- 
pend upon  me.' 

Mr.  Trotter  made  another  bow,  and  turned  to 
depart,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  a  guinea  into  his 
hand. 

'You  're  a  fine  fellow/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'and  I 
admire  your  goodness  of  heart.  No  thanks.  Re- 
member— eleven  o'clock/ 

'There  is  no  fear  of  my  forgetting  it,  sir,'  replied 
Job  Trotter.  With  these  words  he  left  the  room, 
followed  by  Sam. 

'I  say,'  said  the  latter,  'not  a  bad  notion  that  'ere 
crying.  I  'd  cry  like  a  rain-water  spout  in  a  shower 
on  such  good  terms.  How  do  you  do  it  ?' 

'It  comes  from  the  heart,  Mr.  Walker,'  replied  Job, 
solemnly.  'Good  morning,  sir.' 

'You  're  a  soft  customer,  you  are ; — we  Ve  got  it 
all  out  o'  you,  anyhow,'  thought  Mr.  Weller,  as  Job 
walked  away. 

We  cannot  state  the  precise  nature  of  the  thoughts 
which  passed  through  Mr.  Trotter's  mind,  because  we 
don't  know  what  they  were. 

The  day  wore  on,  evening  came,  and  at  a  little 
before  ten  o'clock  Sam  Weller  reported  that  Mr. 
Jingle  and  Job  had  gone  out  together,  that  their 
luggage  was  packed  up,  and  that  they  had  ordered 
a  chaise.  The  plot  was  evidently  in  execution,  as 
Mr.  Trotter  had  foretold. 

Half -past  ten  o'clock  arrived,  and  it  was  time  for 
Mr.  Pickwick  to  issue  forth  on  his  delicate  errand. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  289 

Resisting  Sam's  tender  of  his  great-coat,  in  order  that 
he  might  have  no  incumbrance  in  scaling  the  wall,  he 
set  forth,  followed  by  his  attendant. 

There  was  a  bright  moon,  but  it  \vas  behind  the 
clouds.  It  was  a  fine  dry  night,  but  it  was  most  un- 
commonly dark.  Paths,  hedges,  fields,  houses,  and 
trees,  were  enveloped  in  one  deep  shade.  The  atmos- 
phere was  hot  and  sultry,  the  summer  lightning  quiv- 
ered faintly  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  and  was  the 
only  sight  that  varied  the  dull  gloom  in  which  every- 
thing was  wrapped — sound  there  was  none,  except 
the  distant  barking  of  some  restless  house-dog. 

They  found  the  house,  read  the  brass-plate,  walked 
round  the  wall,  and  stopped  at  that  portion  of  it  which 
divided  them  from  the  bottom  of  the  garden. 

'You  will  return  to  the  inn,  Sam,  when  you  have 
assisted  me  over,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wery  well,  sir.' 

'And  you  will  sit  up,  till  I  return.' 

'Cert'nly,  sir.' 

'Take  hold  of  my  leg;  and,  when  I  say  "Over," 
raise  me  gently.' 

'All  right,  sir.' 

Having  settled  these  preliminaries,  Mr.  Pickwick 
grasped  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  gave  the  word  'Over/ 
which  was  very  literally  obeyed.  Whether  his  body 
partook  in  some  degree  of  the  elasticity  of  his  mind,  or 
whether  Mr.  Weller's  notions  of  a  gentle  push  were 
of  a  somewhat  rougher  description  than  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's, the  immediate  effect  of  his  assistance  was  to 
jerk  that  immortal  gentleman  completely  over  the 
wall  on  to  the  bed  beneath,  where,  after  crushing  three 
gooseberry-bushes,  and  a  rose-tree,  he  finally  alighted 
at  full  length. 

'You  ha'n't  hurt  yourself,  I  hope,  sir?'  said  Sam, 


290  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

in  a  loud  whisper,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  from  the 
surprise  consequent  upon  the  mysterious  disappear- 
ance of  his  master. 

'I  have  not  hurt  myself,  Sam,  certainly,'  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick,  from  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  'but  I 
rather  think  that  you  have  hurt  me.' 

'I  hope  not,  sir,'  said  Sam. 

'Never  mind,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising,  'it 's 
nothing  but  a  few  scratches.  Go  away,  or  we  shall 
be  overheard.' 

'Good-bye,  sir.' 

'Good-bye.' 

With  stealthy  steps  Sam  Weller  departed,  leaving 
Mr.  Pickwick  alone  in  the  garden. 

Lights  occasionally  appeared  in  the  different  win- 
dows of  the  house,  or  glanced  from  the  staircases,  as 
if  the  inmates  were  retiring  to  rest.  Not  caring  to 
go  too  near  the  door,  until  the  appointed  time,  Mr. 
Pickwick  crouched  into  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and 
awaited  its  arrival. 

It  was  a  situation  which  might  well  have  depressed 
the  spirits  of  many  a  man.  Mr.  Pickwick,  however, 
felt  neither  depression  nor  misgiving.  He  knew  that 
his  purpose  was  in  the  main  a  good  one,  and  he  placed 
implicit  reliance  on  the  high-minded  Job.  It  was 
dull,  certainly;  not  to  say,  dreary:  but  a  contempla- 
tive man  can  always  employ  himself  in  meditation. 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  meditated  himself  into  a  doze,  when 
he  was  roused  by  the  chimes  of  the  neighbouring 
church  ringing  out  the  hour — half-past  eleven. 

'That  is  the  time,'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  getting 
cautiously  on  his  feet.  He  looked  up  at  the  house. 
The  lights  had  disappeared,  and  the  shutters  were 
closed — all  in  bed,  no  doubt.  He  walked  on  tip-toe 
to  the  door,  and  gave  a  gentle  tap.  Two  or  three  min- 
utes passing  without  any  reply,  he  gave  another  tap 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          291 

rather  louder,  and  then  another  rather  louder  than 
that. 

At  length  the  sound  of  feet  was  audible  upon  the 
stairs,  and  then  the  light  of  a  candle  shone  through 
the  key-hole  of  the  door.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
unchaining  and  unbolting,  and  the  door  was  slowly 
opened. 

Now  the  door  opened  outwards:  and  as  the  door 
opened  wider  and  wider,  Mr.  Pickwick  receded  behind 
it,  more  and  more.  What  was  his  astonishment  when 
he  just  peeped  out,  by  way  of  caution,  to  see  that  the 
person  who  had  opened  it  was — not  Job  Trotter,  but 
a  servant-girl  with  a  candle  in  her  hand!  Mr.  Pick- 
wick drew  in  his  head  again,  with  the  swiftness  dis- 
played by  that  admirable  melodramatic  performer, 
Punch,  when  he  lies  in  wait  for  the  flat-headed 
comedian  with  the  tin  box  of  music. 

'It  must  have  been  the  cat,  Sarah,'  said  the  girl, 
addressing  herself  to  some  one  in  the  house.  'Puss, 
puss,  puss, — tit,  tit,  tit.' 

But  no  animal  being  decoyed  by  these  blandish- 
ments, the  girl  slowly  closed  the  door,  and  re-fastened 
it;  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick  drawn  up  straight  against 
the  wall. 

'This  is  very  curious,'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'They  are  sitting  up  beyond  their  usual  hour,  I  sup- 
pose. Extremely  unfortunate,  that  they  should  have 
chosen  this  night,  of  all  others,  for  such  a  purpose- 
exceedingly.'  And  with  these  thoughts,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick cautiously  retired  to  the  angle  of  the  wall  in 
which  he  had  been  before  ensconced;  waiting  until 
such  time  as  he  might  deem  it  safe  to  repeat  the 
signal. 

He  had  not  been  here  five  minutes,  when  a  vivid 
flash  of  lightning  was  followed  by  a  loud  peal  of 
thunder  that  crashed  and  rolled  away  in  the  distance 


292  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  a  terrific  noise — then  came  another  flash  of  light- 
ning, brighter  than  the  other,  and  a  second  peal  of 
thunder  louder  than  the  first;  and  then  down  came  the 
rain,  with  a  force  and  fury  that  swept  everything 
before  it. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  perfectly  aware  that  a  tree  is  a 
very  dangerous  neighbour  in  a  thunder-storm.  He 
had  a  tree  on  his  right,  a  tree  on  his  left,  a  third  before 
him,  and  a  fourth  behind.  If  he  remained  where  he 
was,  he  might  fall  the  victim  of  an  accident;  if  he 
showed  himself  in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  he  might 
be  consigned  to  a  constable;  once  or  twice  he  tried  to 
scale  the  wall,  but  having  no  other  legs  this  time,  than 
those  with  which  Nature  had  furnished  him,  the  only 
effect  of  his  struggles  was  to  inflict  a  variety  of  very 
unpleasant  gratings  on  his  knees  and  shins,  and  to 
throw  him  into  a  state  of  the  most  prof  used  perspira- 
tion. 

'What  a  dreadful  situation,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
pausing  to  wipe  his  brow  after  this  exercise.  He 
looked  up  at  the  house — all  was  dark.  They  must 
be  gone  to  bed  now.  He  would  try  the  signal  again. 

He  walked  on  tiptoe  across  the  moist  gravel,  and 
tapped  at  the  door.  He  held  his  breath  and  listened 
at  the  key-hole.  No  reply;  very  odd.  Another 
knock.  He  listened  again.  There  was  a  low  whis- 
pering inside,  and  then  a  voice  cried — 

'Who's  there?' 

'That's  not  Job,'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily 
drawing  himself  straight  up  against  the  wall  again. 
'It 's  a  woman.' 

He  had  scarcely  had  time  to  form  this  conclusion, 
when  a  window  above-stairs  was  thrown  up,  and  three 
or  four  female  voices  repeated  the  query — 'Who  's 
there?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  dared  not  move  hand  or  foot.     It  was 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  293 

clear  that  the  whole  establishment  was  roused.  He 
made  up  his  mind  to  remain  where  he  was,  until  the 
alarm  had  subsided :  and  then  by  a  supernatural  effort, 
to  get  over  the  wall,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

Like  all  Mr.  Pickwick's  determinations,  this  was  the 
best  that  could  be  made  under  the  circumstances ;  but, 
unfortunately,  it  was  founded  upon  the  assumption 
that  they  would  not  venture  to  open  the  door  again. 
What  was  his  discomfiture,  when  he  heard  the  chain 
and  bolts  withdrawn,  and  saw  the  door  slowly  opening, 
wider  and  wider!  He  retreated  into  the  corner,  step 
by  step ;  but  do  what  he  would,  the  interposition  of  his 
own  person,  prevented  its  being  opened  to  its  utmost 
width. 

'Who  's  there?'  screamed  a  numerous  chorus  of 
treble  voices  from  the  staircase  inside,  consisting  of 
the  spinster  lady  of  the  establishment,  three  teachers, 
five  female  servants,  and  thirty  boarders,  all  half- 
dressed,  and  in  a  forest  of  curl-papers. 

Of  course  Mr.  Pickwick  didn't  say  who  was  there: 
and  then  the  burden  of  the  chorus  changed  into — 'Lor! 
I  am  so  frightened.' 

'Cook,'  said  the  lady  abbess,  who  took  care  to  be  on 
the  top  stair,  the  very  last  of  the  group — 'Cook,  why 
don't  you  go  a  little  way  into  the  garden?' 

'Please,  ma'am,  I  don't  like,'  responded  the  cook. 

'Lor,  what  a  stupid  thing  that  cook  is!'  said  the 
thirty  boarders. 

'Cook,'  said  the  lady  abbess,  with  great  dignity; 
'don't  answer  me,  if  you  please.  I  insist  upon  your 
looking  into  the  garden  immediately.' 

Here  the  cook  began  to  cry,  and  the  housemaid  said 
it  was  'a  shame !'  for  which  partisanship  she  received  a 
month's  warning  on  the  spot. 

'Do  you  hear,  cook?'  said  the  lady  abbess,  stamping 
her  foot  impatiently. 


294  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Don't  you  hear  your  missis,  cook?'  said  the  three 
teachers. 

'What  an  impudent  thing  that  cook  is!'  said  the 
thirty  boarders. 

The  unfortunate  cook,  thus  strongly  urged,  ad- 
vanced a  step  or  two,  and  holding  her  candle  just 
where  it  prevented  her  from  seeing  anything  at  all, 
declared  there  was  nothing  there,  and  it  must  have 
been  the  wind.  The  door  was  just  going  to  be  closed 
in  consequence,  when  an  inquisitive  boarder,  who  had 
been  peeping  between  the  hinges,  set  up  a  fearful 
screaming,  which  called  back  the  cook  and  the  house- 
maid, and  all  the  more  adventurous,  in  no  time. 

'What  is  the  matter  with  Miss  Smithers?'  said  the 
lady  abbess,  as  the  aforesaid  Miss  Smithers  pro- 
ceeded to  go  into  hysterics  of  four  young  lady  power. 

'Lor,  Miss  Smithers  dear,'  said  the  other  nine-and- 
twenty  boarders. 

'Oh,  the  man — the  man — behind  the  door !'  screamed 
Miss  Smithers. 

The  lady  abbess  no  sooner  heard  this  appalling  cry, 
than  she  retreated  to  her  own  bed-room,  double- 
locked  the  door,  and  fainted  away  comfortably.  The 
boarders,  and  the  teachers,  and  the  servants,  fell  back 
upon  the  stairs,  and  upon  each  other;  and  never  was 
such  a  screaming,  and  fainting,  and  struggling  be- 
held. In  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  Mr.  Pickwick 
emerged  from  his  concealment,  and  presented  him- 
self amongst  them. 

'Ladies — dear  ladies/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Oh,  he  says  we  're  dear,'  cried  the  oldest  and  ugliest 
teacher.  'Oh  the  wretch !' 

'Ladies,'  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  rendered  desperate 
by  the  danger  of  his  situation.  'Hear  me.  I  am  no 
robber.  I  want  the  lady  of  the  house.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  295 

'Oh,  what  a  ferocious  monster!'  screamed  another 
teacher.  'He  wants  Miss  Tomkins.' 

Here  there  was  a  general  scream. 

'Ring  the  alarm  bell,  somebody!'  cried  a  dozen 
voices. 

'Don't— don't,'  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Look  at 
me.  Do  I  look  like  a  robber!  My  dear  ladies — you 
may  bind  me  hand  and  leg,  or  lock  me  up  in  a  closet, 
if  you  like.  Only  hear  what  I  have  got  to  say — only 
hear  me.' 

'How  did  you  come  in  our  garden?'  faltered  the 
housemaid. 

'Call  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  I  '11  tell  her  every- 
thing— everything,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  exerting  his 
lungs  to  the  utmost  pitch.  'Call  her — only  be  quiet, 
and  call  her,  and  you  shall  hear  everything.' 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearance,  or 
it  might  have  been  his  manner,  or  it  might  have  been 
the  temptation — irresistible  to  a  female  mind — of 
hearing  something  at  present  enveloped  in  mystery, 
that  reduced  the  more  reasonable  portion  of  the  es- 
tablishment (some  four 'individuals)  to  a  state  of  com- 
parative quiet.  By  them  it  was  proposed,  as  a  test 
of  Mr.  Pickwick's  sincerity,  that  he  should  immedi- 
ately submit  to  personal  restraint;  and  that  gentle- 
man having  consented  to  hold  a  conference  with  Miss 
Tomkins,  from  the  interior  of  a  closet  in  which  the 
day  boarders  hung  their  bonnets  and  sandwich-bags, 
he  at  once  stepped  into  it,  of  his  own  accord,  and  was 
securely  locked  in.  This  revived  the  others ;  and  Miss 
Tomkins  having  been  brought  to,  and  brought  down, 
the  conference  began. 

'What  did  you  do  in  my  garden,  Man?'  said  Miss 
Tomkins,  in  a  faint  voice. 

'I  came  to  warn  you,  that  one  of  your  young  ladies 


296  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

was  going  to  elope  to-night,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
from  the  interior  of  the  closet. 

'Elope !'  exclaimed  Miss  Tomkins,  the  three  teachers, 
the  thirty  boarders,   and  the   five   servants.     'Who 
with?' 
,,    '.Your  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall.' 

'My  friend!     I  don't  know  any  such  person/ 

'Well;  Mr.  Jingle,  then.' 

'I  never  heard  the  name  in  my  life.' 

'Then,  I  have  been  deceived,  and  deluded,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick.  'I  have  been  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy — a 
foul  and  base  conspiracy.  Send  to  the  Angel,  my 
dear  ma'am,  if  you  don't  believe  me.  Send  to  the 
Angel  for  Mr.  Pickwick's  man-servant,  I  implore 
you,  ma'am.' 

'He  must  be  respectable — he  keeps  a  man-servant,' 
said  Miss  Tomkins  to  the  writing  and  ciphering  gov- 
erness. 

'It 's  my  opinion,  Miss  Tomkins/  said  the  writing 
and  ciphering  governess,  'that  his  man-servant  keeps 
him.  I  think  he  's  a  madman,  Miss  Tomkins,  and  the 
the  other  's  his  keeper/ 

'I  think  you  are  very  right,  Miss  Gwynn/  re- 
sponded Miss  Tomkins.  'Let  two  of  the  servants 
repair  to  the  Angel,  and  let  the  others  remain  here, 
to  protect  us/ 

So  two  of  the  servants  were  despatched  to  the  Angel 
in  search  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller:  and  the  remaining 
three  stopped  behind  to  protect  Miss  Tomkins,  and 
the  three  teachers,  and  the  thirty  boarders.  And  Mr. 
Pickwick  sat  down  in  the  closet,  beneath  a  grove  of 
sandwich-bags,  and  awaited  the  return  of  the  messen- 
gers, with  all  the  philosophy  and  fortitude  he  could 
summon  to  his  aid. 

An  hour  and  a  half  elapsed  before  they  came  back, 
and  when  they  did  come,  Mr.  Pickwick  recognised,  in 


THE    UNEXPECTED    "BREAKING    U?"   OF   THE   SEMINARY. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  297 

addition  to  the  voice  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  two  other 
voices,  the  tones  of  which  struck  familiarly  on  his  ear; 
but  whose  they  were,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him 
call  to  mind. 

A  very  brief  conversation  ensued.  The  door  was 
unlocked.  Mr.  Pickwick  stepped  out  of  the  closet, 
and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  estab- 
lishment of  Westgate  House,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller, 
and — old  Wardle,  and  his  destined  son-in-law,  Mr. 
Trundle! 

'My  dear  friend,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  running  for- 
ward and  grasping  Wardle's  hand,  'my  dear  friend, 
pray,  for  Heaven's  sake,  explain  to  this  lady  the  un- 
fortunate and  dreadful  situation  in  which  I  am  placed. 
You  must  have  heard  it  from  my  servant ;  say,  at  all 
events,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  am  neither  a  robber  nor 
a  madman.' 

'I  have  said  so,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  said  so 
already,'  replied  Mr.  Wardle,  shaking  the  right  hand 
of  his  friend,  while  Mr.  Trundle  shook  the  left. 

'And  whoever  says,  or  has  said,  he  is,'  interposed 
Mr.  Weller,  stepping  forward,  'says  that  which  is  not 
the  truth,  but  so  far  from  it,  on  the  contrary,  quite 
the  rewerse.  And  if  there  's  any  number  o'  men  on 
these  here  premises  as  has  said  so,  I  shall  be  wery 
happy  to  give  'em  all  a  wery  convincing  proof  o'  their 
being  mistaken,  in  this  here  wery  room,  if  these  wery 
respectable  ladies  '11  have  the  goodness  to  retire,  and 
order  'em  up,  one  at  a  time.'  Having  delivered  this 
defiance  with  great  volubility,  Mr.  Weller  struck  his 
open  palm  emphatically  with  his  clenched  fist,  and 
winked  pleasantly  on  Miss  Tomkins :  the  intensity  of 
whose  horror  at  his  supposing  it  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  that  there  could  be  any  men  on  the  premises 
of  Westgate  House  Establishment  for  Young  Ladies, 
it  is  impossible  to  describe. 


298  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Pickwick's  explanation  having  already  been 
partially  made,  was  soon  concluded.  But  neither  in 
the  course  of  his  walk  home  with  his  friends,  nor 
afterwards  when  seated  before  a  blazing  fire  at  the 
supper  he  so  much  needed,  could  a  single  observa- 
tion be  drawn  from  him.  He  seemed  bewildered  and 
amazed.  Once,  and  only  once,  he  turned  round  to 
Mr.  Wardle,  and  said — 

'How  did  you  come  here  ?' 

'Trundle  and  I  came  down  here,  for  some  good 
shooting  on  the  first,'  replied  Wardle.  'We  arrived 
to-night,  and  were  astonished  to  hear  from  your 
servant  that  you  were  here  too.  But  I  am  glad  you 
are,'  said  the  old  fellow,  slapping  him  on  the  back. 
'I  am  glad  you  are.  We  shall  have  a  jovial  party  on 
the  first,  and  we  '11  give  Winkle  another  chance — eh, 
old  boy?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  reply;  he  did  not  even  ask 
after  his  friends  at  Dingley  Dell,  and  shortly  after- 
wards retired  for  the  night,  desiring  Sam  to  fetch  his 
candle  when  he  rung. 

The  bell  did  ring  in  due  course,  and  Mr.  Weller 
presented  himself. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  out  from  under 
the  bed-clothes. 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  Mr.  Weller  snuffed  the 
candle. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  as  if  with  a  desper- 
ate effort. 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  once  more. 

'Where  is  that  Trotter?' 

'Job,  sirr 

'Yes.' 

'Gone,  sir.' 

'With  his  master,  I  suppose?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  299 

'Friend  or  master,  or  whatever  he  is,  he  's  gone  with 
him,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'There  's  a  pair  on  'em, 
sir.' 

'Jingle  suspected  my  design,  and  set  that  fellow  on 
you,  with  this  story,  I  suppose?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
half  choking. 

'Just  that,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'It  was  all  false,  of  course?' 

'All,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'Reg'lar  do,  sir; 
artful  dodge.' 

'I  don't  think  he  '11  escape  us  quite  so  easily  the 
next  time,  Sam  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  don't  think  he  will,  sir.' 

'Whenever  I  meet  that  Jingle  again,  wherever  it 
is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  raising  himself  in  bed,  and 
indenting  his  pillow  with  a  tremendous  blow,  'I  '11  in- 
flict personal  chastisement  on  him,  in  addition  to  the 
exposure  he  so  richly  merits.  I  will,  or  my  name  is 
not  Pickwick.' 

'And  wenever  I  catches  hold  o'  that  there  melan- 
cholly  chap  with  the  black  hair,'  said  Sam,  'if  I  don't 
bring  some  real  water  into  his  eyes,  for  once  in  a  way, 
my  name  an't  Weller.  Good  night,  sir.' 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SHOWING  THAT  AN  ATTACK  OF  RHEUMATISM,  IN  SOME 
CASES,  ACTS  AS  A  QUICKENEB,  TO  INVENTIVE  GENIUS 

THE  constitution  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  though  able  to 
sustain  a  very  considerable  amount  of  exertion  and 
fatigue,  was  not  proof  against  such  a  combination  of 
attacks  as  he  had  undergone  on  the  memorable  night, 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter.  The  process  of  being 
washed  in  the  night  air,  and  rough-dried  in  a  closet,  is 


300  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

as  dangerous  as  it  is  peculiar.     Mr.  Pickwick  was 
laid  up  with  an  attack  of  rheumatism. 

But  although  the  bodily  powers  of  the  great  man 
were  thus  impaired,  his  mental  energies  retained  their 
pristine  vigour.  His  spirts  were  elastic;  his  good 
humour  was  restored.  Even  the  vexation  consequent 
upon  his  recent  adventure  had  vanished  from  his  mind; 
and  he  could  join  in  the  hearty  laughter  which  any 
allusion  to  it  excited  in  Mr.  Wardle,  without  anger 
and  without  embarrassment.  Nay,  more.  During 
the  two  days  Mr.  Pickwick  was  confined  to  his  bed, 
Sam  was  his  constant  attendant.  On  the  first,  he 
endeavoured  to  amuse  his  master  by  anecdote  and 
conversation;  on  the  second,  Mr.  Pickwick  demanded 
his  writing-desk,  and  pen  and  ink,  and  was  deeply 
engaged  during  the  whole  day.  On  the  third,  being 
able  to  sit  up  in  his  bedchamber,  he  despatched  his 
valet  with  a  message  to  Mr.  Wardle  and  Mr.  Trundle, 
intimating  that  if  they  would  take  their  wine  there, 
that  evening,  they  would  greatly  oblige  him.  The 
invitation  was  most  willingly  accepted;  and  when 
they  were  seated  over  their  wine,  Mr.  Pickwick  with 
sundry  blushes,  produced  the  following  little  tale, 
as  having  been  'edited'  by  himself,  during  his  recent 
indisposition,  from  his  notes  of  Mr.  Weller's  unsophis- 
ticated recital. 

THE  PARISH  CLERK 

A   TALE    OF    TRUE    LOVE 

'ONCE  upon  a  time  in  a  very  small  country  town, 
at  a  considerable  distance  from  London,  there  lived 
a  little  man  named  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  who  was  the 
parish  clerk  of  the  little  town,  and  lived  in  a  little 
house  in  the  little  High  Street,  within  ten  minutes' 
walk  of  the  little  church;  and  who  was  to  be  found 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  301 

every  day  from  nine  till  four,  teaching  a  little  learn- 
ing to  the  little  boys.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  a  harm- 
less, inoffensive,  good-natured  being,  with  a  turned-up 
nose,  and  rather  turned-in  legs :  a  cast  in  his  eye,  and 
a  halt  in  his  gait;  and  he  divided  his  time  between  the 
church  and  his  school,  verily  believing  that  there 
existed  not,  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  so  clever  a  man 
as  the  curate,  so  imposing  an  apartment  as  the  vestry- 
room,  or  so  well-ordered  a  seminary  as  his  own. 
Once,  and  only  once,  in  his  life,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had 
seen  a  bishop — a  real  bishop,  with  his  arms  in  lawn 
sleeves,  and  his  head  in  a  wig.  He  had  seen  him 
walk,  and  heard  him  talk,  at  a  confirmation,  on  which 
momentous  occasion  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  so  over- 
come with  reverence  and  awe,  when  the  aforesaid 
bishop  laid  his  hand  on  his  head,  that  he  fainted  right 
clean  away,  and  was  borne  out  of  the  church  in  the 
arms  of  the  beadle. 

'This  was  a  great  event,  a  tremendous  era,  in  Na- 
thaniel Pipkin's  life,  and  it  was  the  only  one  that  had 
ever  occurred  to  ruffle  the  smooth  current  of 
his  quiet  existence,  when  happening  one  fine 
afternoon,  in  a  fit  of  mental  abstraction,  to 
raise  his  eyes  from  the  slate  on  which  he 
was  devising  some  tremedous  problem  in  com- 
pound addition  for  an  offending  urchin  to  solve, 
they  suddenly  rested  on  the  blooming  countenance 
of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  only  daughter  of  old  Lobbs, 
the  great  saddler  over  the  way.  Now,  the  eyes  of 
Mr.  Pipkin  had  rested  on  the  pretty  face  of  Maria 
Lobbs  many  a  time  and  oft  before,  at  church  and  else- 
where; but  the  eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs  had  never  looked 
so  bright,  the  cheeks  of  Maria  Lobbs  had  never  looked 
so  ruddy,  as  upon  this  particular  occasion.  No  won- 
der then,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  unable  to  take 
his  eyes  from  the  countenance  of  Miss  Lobbs;  no  won- 


302  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

der  that  Miss  Lobbs,  finding  herself  stared  at  by  a 
young  man,  withdrew  her  head  from  the  window  out 
of  which  she  had  been  peeping,  and  shut  the  casement 
and  pulled  down  the  blind;  no  wonder  that  Nathaniel 
Pipkin,  immediately  thereafter,  fell  upon  the  young 
urchin  who  had  previously  offended,  and  cuffed  and 
knocked  him  about,  to  his  heart's  content.  All  this 
was  very  natural,  and  there  's  nothing  at  all  to  wonder 
at  about  it. 

'It  is  matter  of  wonder,  though,  that  any  one  of 
Mr.  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  retiring  disposition,  nervous 
temperament,  and  most  particularly  diminutive  in- 
come, should  from  this  day  forth,  have  dared  to  aspire 
to  the  hand  and  heart  of  the  only  daughter  of  the  fiery 
old  Lobbs — of  old  Lobbs  the  great  saddler,  who  could 
have  bought  up  the  whole  village  at  one  stroke  of  his 
pen,  and  never  felt  the  outlay — old  Lobbs,  who  was 
well  known  to  have  heaps  of  money,  invested  in  the 
bank  at  the  nearest  market  town — old  Lobbs,  who 
was  reported  to  have  countless  and  inexhaustible  treas- 
ures, hoarded  up  in  the  little  iron  safe  with  the  big 
key -hole,  over  the  chimney-piece  in  the  back  parlour — 
old  Lobbs,  who  it  was  well  known,  on  festive  occasions 
garnished  his  board  with  a  real  silver  tea-pot,  cream- 
ewer,  and  sugar-basin,  which  he  was  wont,  in  the 
pride  of  his  heart,  to  boast  should  be  his  daughter's 
property  when  she  found  a  man  to  her  mind.  I  re- 
peat it,  to  be  matter  of  profound  astonishment  and 
intense  wonder,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  should  have 
had  the  temerity  to  cast  his  eyes  in  this  direction. 
But  love  is  blind:  and  Nathaniel  had  a  cast  in  his 
eye:  and  perhaps  these  two  circumstances,  taken 
together  prevented  his  seeing  the  matter  in  its  proper 
light. 

'Now,  if  old  Lobbs  had  entertained  the  most  remote 
or  distant  idea  of  the  state  of  the  affections  of  Nathan- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  303 

iel  Pipkin,  he  would  just  have  razed  the  school-room  to 
the  ground,  or  exterminated  its  master  from  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  or  committed  some  other  outrage 
and  atrocity  of  an  equally  ferocious  and  violent  de- 
scription ;  for  he  was  a  terrible  old  fellow,  was  Lobbs, 
when  his  pride  was  injured,  or  his  blood  was  up. 
Swear !  Such  trains  of  oaths  would  come  rolling  and 
pealing  over  the  way,  sometimes,  when  he  was  de- 
nouncing the  idleness  of  the  bony  apprentice  with  the 
thin  legs,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  would  shake  in  his 
shoes  with  horror,  and  the  hair  of  the  pupils'  heads 
would  stand  on  end  with  fright. 

'Well!  Day  after  day,  when  school  was  over,  and 
the  pupils  gone,  did  Nathaniel  Pipkin  sit  himself  down 
at  the  front  window,  and  while  he  feigned  to  be  read- 
ing a  book,  throw  sidelong  glances  over  the  way  in 
search  of  the  bright  eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs;  and  he 
hadn't  sat  there  many  days,  before  the  bright  eyes 
appeared  at  an  upper  window,  apparently  deeply 
engaged  in  reading  too.  This  was  delightful,  and 
gladdening  to  the  heart  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin.  It 
was  something  to  sit  there  for  hours  together,  and 
look  upon  that  pretty  face  when  the  eyes  were  cast 
down ;  but  when  Maria  Lobbs  began  to  raise  her  eyes 
from  her  book,  and  dart  their  rays  in  the  direction  of 
Nathaniel  Pipkin,  his  delight  and  admiration  were 
perfectly  boundless.  At  last,  one  day  when  he  knew 
old  Lobbs  was  out,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  the  temerity 
to  kiss  his  hand  to  Maria  Lobbs;  and  Maria  Lobbs, 
instead  of  shutting  the  window,  and  pulling  down  the 
blind,  kissed  hers  to  him,  and  smiled.  Upon  which, 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  determined,  that,  come  what  might, 
he  would  develop  the  state  of  his  feelings,  without 
further  delay. 

'A  prettier  foot,  a  gayer  heart,  a  more  dimpled 
face,  or  a  smarter  form,  never  bounded  so  lightly  over 


304  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  earth  they  graced,  as  did  those  of  Maria  Lobbs, 
the  old  saddler's  daughter.  There  was  a  roguish 
twinkle  in  her  sparkling  eyes,  that  would  have  made 
its  way  to  far  less  susceptible  bosoms  than  that  of 
Nathaniel  Pipkin;  and  there  was  such  a  joyous  sound 
in  her  merry  laugh,  that  the  sternest  misanthrope  must 
have  smiled  to  hear  it.  Even  old  Lobbs  himself,  in 
the  very  height  of  his  ferocity,  couldn't  resist  the 
coaxing  of  his  pretty  daughter;  and  when  she,  and  her 
cousin  Kate — an  arch,  impudent-looking,  bewitching 
little  person — made  a  dead  set  upon  the  old  man  to- 
gether, as,  to  say  the  truth,  they  very  often  did,  he 
could  have  refused  them  nothing,  even  had  they  asked 
for  a  portion  of  the  countless  and  inexhaustible  treas- 
ures, which  were  hidden  from  the  light,  in  the  iron 
safe. 

'Nathaniel  Pipkin's  heart  beat  high  within  him, 
when  he  saw  this  enticing  little  couple  some  hundred 
yards  before  him  one  summer's  evening,  in  the  very 
field  in  which  he  had  many  a  time  strolled  about  till 
night-time,  and  pondered  on  the  beauty  of  Maria 
Lobbs.  But  though  he  had  often  thought  then,  how 
briskly  he  would  walk  up  to  Maria  Lobbs  and  tell  her 
of  his  passion  if  he  could  only  meet  her,  he  felt,  now 
that  she  was  unexpectedly  before  him,  all  the  blood  in 
his  body  mounting  to  his  face,  manifestly  to  the  great 
detriment  of  his  legs,  which,  deprived  of  their  usual 
portion,  trembled  beneath  him.  When  they  stopped 
to  gather  a  hedge-flower,  or  listen  to  a  bird,  Nathaniel 
Pipkin  stopped  too,  and  pretended  to  be  absorbed  in 
meditation,  as  indeed  he  really  was ;  for  he  was  think- 
ing what  on  earth  he  should  ever  do,  when  they  turned 
back,  as  they  inevitably  must  in  time,  and  meet  him 
face  to  face.  But  though  he  was  afraid  to  make  up 
to  them,  he  couldn't  bear  to  lose  sight  of  them;  so 
when  they  walked  faster,  he  walked  faster,  when  they 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  305 

lingered,  he  lingered,  and  when  they  stopped,  he 
stopped;  and  so  they  might  have  gone  on,  until  the 
darkness  prevented  them,  if  Kate  had  not  looked  slyly 
back,  and  encouragingly  beckoned  Nathaniel  to  ad- 
vance. There  was  something  in  Kate's  manner  that 
was  not  to  be  resisted,  and  so  Nathaniel  Pipkin  com- 
plied with  the  invitation;  and  after  a  great  deal  of 
blushing  on  his  part,  and  immoderate  laughter  on  that 
of  the  wicked  little  cousin,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  went 
down  on  his  knees  on  the  dewy  grass,  and  declared 
his  resolution  to  remain  there  for  ever,  unless  he  were 
permitted  to  rise  the  accepted  lover  of  Maria  Lobbs. 
Upon  this,  the  merry  laughter  of  Maria  Lobbs  rang 
through  the  calm  evening  air — without  seeming  to  dis- 
turb it,  though;  it  had  such  a  pleasant  sound — and 
the  wicked  little  cousin  laughed  more  immoderately 
than  before,  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  blushed  deeper 
than  ever.  At  length,  Maria  Lobbs  being  more 
strenuously  urged  by  the  love-worn  little  man,  turned 
away  her  head,  and  whispered  her  cousin  to  say,  or 
at  all  events  Kate  did  say,  that  she  felt  much  honoured 
by  Mr.  Pipkin's  addresses;  that  her  hand  and  heart 
were  at  her  father's  disposal;  but  that  nobody  tould 
be  insensible  to  Mr.  Pipkin's  merits.  As  all  this  was 
said  with  much  gravity,  and  as  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
walked  home  with  Maria  Lobbs,  and  struggled  for  a 
kiss  at  parting,  he  went  to  bed  a  happy  man,  and 
dreamed  all  night  long,  of  softening  old  Lobbs,  open- 
ing the  strong  box,  and  marrying  Maria. 

'The  next  day,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  saw  old  Lobbs  go 
out  upon  his  old  grey  pony,  and  after  a  great  many 
signs  at  the  window  from  the  wicked  little  cousin, 
the  object  and  meaning  of  which  he  could  by  no  means 
understand,  the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs 
came  over  to  say  that  his  master  wasn't  coming  home 
all  night,  and  that  the  ladies  expected  Mr.  Pipkin  to 


306  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tea,  at  six  o'clock  precisely.  How  the  lessons  were 
got  through  that  day,  neither  Nathaniel  Pipkin  nor 
his  pupils  knew  any  more  than  you  do;  but  they  were 
got  through  somehow,  and,  after  the  boys  had  gone, 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  took  till  full  six  o'clock  to  dress 
himself  to  his  satisfaction.  Not  that  it  took  long  to 
select  the  garments  he  should  wear,  inasmuch  as  he 
had  no  choice  about  the  matter;  but  the  putting  of 
them  on  to  the  best  advantage,  and  the  touching  of 
them  up  previously,  was  a  task  of  no  inconsiderable 
difficulty  or  importance. 

'There  was  a  very  snug  little  party,  consisting  of 
Maria  Lobbs  and  her  cousin  Kate,  and  three  or  four 
romping,  good-humoured,  rosy-cheeked  girls.  Na- 
thaniel Pipkin  had  ocular  demonstration  of  the  fact, 
that  the  rumours  of  old  Lobbs 's  treasures  were  not 
exaggerated.  There  were  the  real  solid  silver  tea- 
pot, cream-ewer,  and  sugar-basin,  on  the  table,  and 
real  silver  spoons  to  stir  the  tea  with,  and  real  china 
cups  to  drink  it  out  of,  and  plates  of  the  same,  to 
hold  the  cakes  and  toast  in.  The  only  eye-sore  in  the 
whole  place,  was  another  cousin  of  Maria  Lobbs's, 
and  a  brother  of  Kate,  whom  Maria  Lobbs  called 
"Henry,"  and  who  seemed  to  keep  Maria  Lobbs  all 
to  himself,  up  in  one  corner  of  the  table.  It 's  a  de- 
lightful thing  to  see  affection  in  families,  but  it  may 
be  carried  rather  too  far,  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could 
not  help  thinking  that  Maria  Lobbs  must  be  very 
particularly  fond  of  her  relations,  if  she  paid  as  much 
attention  to  all  of  them  as  to  this  individual  cousin. 
After  tea,  too,  when  the  wicked  little  cousin  proposed 
a  game  at  blind  man's  buff,  it  somehow  or  other  hap- 
pened that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  nearly  always  blind, 
and  whenever  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  male  cousin, 
he  was  sure  to  find  that  Maria  Lobbs  was  not  far  off. 
And  though  the  wicked  little  cousin  and  the  other 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          307 

girls  pinched  him,  and  pulled  his  hair,  and  pushed 
chairs  in  his  way,  and  all  sorts  of  things,  Maria  Lobbs 
never  seemed  to  come  near  him  at  all;  and  once— 
once — Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  have  sworn  he  heard 
the  sound  of  a  kiss,  followed  by  a  faint  remonstrance 
from  Maria  Lobbs,  and  a  half-suppressed  laugh  from 
her  female  friends.  All  this  was  odd — very  odd — and 
there  is  no  saying  what  Nathaniel  Pipkin  might  or 
might  not  have  done,  in  consequence,  if  his  thoughts 
had  not  been  suddenly  directed  into  a  new  channel. 

'The  circumstance  which  directed  his  thoughts  into 
a  new  channel  was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  street-door, 
and  the  person  who  made  this  loud  knocking  at  the 
street-door,  was  no  other  than  old  Lobbs  himself,  who 
had  unexpectedly  returned,  and  was  hammering  away, 
like  a  coffin -maker:  for  he  wanted  his  supper.  The 
alarming  intelligence  was  no  sooner  communicated  by 
the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs,  than  the  girls 
tripped  upstairs  to  Maria  Lobbs's  bed-room,  and  the 
male  cousin  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  were  thrust  into 
a  couple  of  closets  in  the  sitting-room,  for  want  of 
any  better  places  of  concealment;  and  when  Maria 
Lobbs  and  the  wicked  little  cousin  had  stowed  them 
away,  and  put  the  room  to  rights,  they  opened  the 
street-door  to  old  Lobbs,  who  had  never  left  off  knock- 
ing since  he  first  began. 

'Now  it  did  unfortunately  happen  that  old  Lobbs 
being  very  hungry  was  monstrous  cross.  Nathaniel 
Pipkin  could  hear  him  growling  away  like  an  old 
mastiff  with  a  sore  throat ;  and  whenever  the  unfortu- 
nate apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came  into  the  room, 
so  surely  did  old  Lobbs  commence  swearing  at  him 
in  the  most  Saracenic  and  ferocious  manner,  though 
apparently  with  no  other  end  or  object  than  that  of 
easing  his'bosom  by  the  discharge  of  a  few  superfluous 
oaths.  At  length 'some  supper,  which  had  been  warm- 


308  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ing  up,  was  placed  on  the  table,  and  then  old  Lobbs 
fell  to,  in  regular  style;  and  having  made  clear  work 
of  it  in  no  time,  kissed  his  daughter,  and  demanded 
his  pipe. 

'Nature  had  placed  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  knees  in 
very  close  juxtaposition,  but  when  he  heard  old  Lobbs 
demand  his  pipe,  they  knocked  together,  as  if  they 
were  going  to  reduce  each  other  to  powder;  for,  de- 
pending from  a  couple  of  hooks,  in  the  very  closet 
in  which  he  stood,  was  a  large  brown-stemmed,  silver- 
bowled  pipe,  which  pipe  he  himself  had  seen  in  the 
mouth  of  old  Lobbs,  regularly  every  afternoon  and 
evening,  for  the  last  five  years.  The  two  girls  went 
downstairs  for  the  pipe,  and  upstairs  for  the  pipe, 
and  everywhere  but  where  they  knew  the  pipe  was, 
and  old  Lobbs  stormed  away  meanwhile,  in  the  most 
wonderful  manner.  At  last  he  thought  of  the  closet, 
and  walked  up  to  it.  It  was  of  no  use  a  little  man  like 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  pulling  the  door  inwards,  when  a 
great  strong  fellow  like  old  Lobbs  was  pulling  it  out- 
wards. Old  Lobbs  gave  it  one  tug,  and  open  it  flew, 
disclosing  Nathaniel  Pipkin  standing  bolt  upright  in- 
side, and  shaking  with  apprehension  from  head  to 
foot.  Bless  us!  what  an  appalling  look  old  Lobbs 
gave  him,  as  he  dragged  him  out  by  the  collar,  and 
held  him  at  arm's  length. 

"Why,  what  the  devil  do  you  want  here?"  said  old 
Lobbs,  in  a  fearful  voice. 

'Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  make  no  reply,  so  old 
Lobbs  shook  him  backwards  and  forwards,  for  two 
or  three  minutes,  by  way  of  arranging  his  ideas  for 
him. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  roared  Lobbs,  "I  sup- 
pose you  have  come  after  my  daughter,  now?" 

'Old  Lobbs  merely  said  this  as  a  sneer:  for  he  did 
not  believe  that  mortal  presumption  could  have  car- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  309 

ried  Nathaniel  Pipkin  so  far.     What  was  his  indig- 
nation, when  that  poor  man  replied — 

'  "Yes,  I  did,  Mr.  Lobbs.  I  did  come  after  your 
daughter.  I  love  her,  Mr.  Lobbs." 

'  "Why,  you  snivelling,  wry-faced,  puny  villain," 
gasped  old  Lobbs,  paralysed  by  the  atrocious  con- 
fession; "what  do  you  mean  by  that?  Say  this  to  my 
face!  Damme,  I  '11  throttle  you!" 

'It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  old  Lobbs  would 
have  carried  this  threat  into  execution,  in  the  excess 
of  his  rage,  if  his  arm  had  not  been  stayed  by  a 
very  unexpected  apparition,  to  wit,  the  male  cousin, 
who,  stepping  out  of  his  closet,  and  walking  up  to 
old  Lobbs,  said — 

"I  cannot  allow  this  harmless  person,  sir,  who  has 
been  asked  here,  in  some  girlish  frolic,  to  take  upon 
himself,  in  a  very  noble  manner,  the  fault  (if  fault 
it  is)  which  I  am  guilty  of,  and  am  ready  to  avow. 
I  love  your  daughter,  sir;  and  /  am  here  for  the  pur- 
pose of  meeting  her." 

'Old  Lobbs  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  at  this,  but 
not  any  wider  than  Nathaniel  Pipkin. 

'  "You  did?"  said  Lobbs;  at  last  finding  breath  to 
speak. 

'  "I  did." 

'  "And  I  forbade  you  this  house,  long  ago." 

'  "You  did,  or  I  should  not  have  been  here,  clan- 
destinely, to-night." 

'I  am  sorry  to  record  it,  of  old  Lobbs,  but  I  think 
he  would  have  struck  the  cousin,  if  his  pretty  daugh- 
ter, with  her  bright  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  had  not 
clung  to  his  arm. 

'"Don't  stop  him,  Maria,"  said  the  young  man: 
"if  he  has  the  will  to  strike  me,  let  him.  I  would 
not  hurt  a  hair  of  his  grey  head,  for  the  riches  of  the 
world." 


310  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'The  old  man  cast  down  his  eyes  at  this  reproof, 
and  they  met  those  of  his  daughter.  I  have  hinted 
once  or  twice  before,  that  they  were  very  bright  eyes, 
and,  though  they  were  tearful  now,  their  influence 
was  by  no  means  lessened.  Old  Lobbs  turned  his 
head  away,  as  if  to  avoid  being  persuaded  by  them, 
when,  as  fortune  would  have  it,  he  encountered  the 
face  of  the  wicked  little  cousin,  who,  half  afraid  for 
her  brother,  and  half  laughing  at  Nathaniel  Pipkin, 
presented  as  bewitching  an  expression  of  countenance, 
with  a  touch  of  shyness  in  it  too,  as  any  man,  old 
or  young,  need  look  upon.  She  drew  her  arm  coax- 
ingly  through  the  old  man's,  and  whispered  something 
in  his  ear;  and  do  what  he  would,  old  Lobbs  couldn't 
help  breaking  out  into  a  smile,  while  a  tear  stole  down 
his  cheek  at  the  same  time. 

'Five  minutes  after  this,  the  girls  were  brought 
down  from  the  bed-room  with  a  great  deal  of  giggling 
and  modesty;  and  while  the  young  people  were  mak- 
ing themselves  perfectly  happy,  old  Lobbs  got  down 
the  pipe,  and  smoked  it:  and  it  was  a  remarkable  cir- 
cumstance about  that  particular  pipe  of  tobacco,  that 
it  was  the  most  soothing  and  delightful  one  he  ever 
smoked. 

'Nathaniel  Pipkin  thought  it  best  to  keep  his  own 
counsel,  and  by  so  doing  gradually  rose  into  high 
favour  with  old  Lobbs,  who  taught  him  to  smoke  in 
time;  and  they  used  to  sit  out  in  the  garden  on  the 
fine  evenings,  for  many  years  afterwards,  smoking 
and  drinking  in  great  state.  He  soon  recovered  the 
effects  of  his  attachment,  for  we  find  his  name  in 
the  parish  register,  as  a  witness  to  the  marriage  of 
Maria  Lobbs  to  her  cousin;  and  it  also  appears,  by 
reference  to  other  documents,  that  on  the  night  of 
the  wedding  he  was  incarcerated  in  the  village  cage, 
for  having,  in  a  state  of  extreme  intoxication,  com- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  311 

mitted  sundry  excesses  in  the  streets,  in  all  of  which 
he  was  aided  and  abetted  by  the  bony  apprentice  with 
the  thin  legs.' 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BRIEFLY  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  TWO  POINTS; — FIRST,  THE 
POWER  OF  HYSTERICS,  AND,  SECONDLY,  THE  FORCE 
OF  CIRCUMSTANCES 

FOR  two  days  after  the  breakfast  at  Mrs.  Hunter's 
the  Pickwickians  remained  at  Eatanswill,  anxiously 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  some  intelligence  from  their 
revered  leader.  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass 
were  once  again  left  to  their  own  means  of  amuse- 
ment; for  Mr.  Winkle,  in  compliance  with  a  most 
pressing  invitation,  continued  to  reside  at  Mr.  Pott's 
house,  and  to  devote  his  time  to  the  companionship 
of  his  amiable  lady.  Nor  was  the  occasional  society 
of  Mr.  Pott  himself  wanting  to  complete  their  felicity. 
Deeply  immersed  in  the  intensity  of  his  speculations 
for  the  public  weal  and  the  destruction  of  the  Inde- 
pendent, it  was  not  the  habit  of  that  great  man  to 
descend  from  his  mental  pinnacle  to  the  humble  level 
of  ordinary  minds.  On  this  occasion,  however,  and  as 
if  expressly  in  compliment  to  any  follower  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's,  he  unbent,  relaxed,  stepped  down  from 
his  pedestal,  and  walked  upon  the  ground:  benignly 
adapting  his  remarks  to  the  comprehension  of  the 
herd,  and  seeming  in  outward  form,  if  not  in  spirit, 
to  be  one  of  them. 

Such  having  been  the  demeanour  of  this  celebrated 
public  character  towards  Mr.  Winkle,  it  will  be  readily 
imagined  that  considerable  surprise  was  depicted  on 
the  countenance  of  the  latter  gentleman  when,  as  he 


312  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

was  sitting  alone  in  the  breakfast-room,  the  door  was 
hastily  thrown  open,  and  as  hastily  closed,  on  the 
entrance  of  Mr.  Pott,  who,  stalking  majestically  to- 
wards him,  and  thrusting  aside  his  proffered  hand, 
ground  his  teeth,  as  if  to  put  a  sharper  edge  on  what 
he  was  about  to  utter,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  saw-like 
voice — 

'Serpent!' 

'Sir!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  starting  from  his 
chair. 

'Serpent,  sir,'  repeated  Mr.  Pott,  raising  his  voice, 
and  then  suddenly  depressing  it ;  'I  said,  Serpent,  sir 
— make  the  most  of  it.' 

When  you  have  parted  with  a  man,  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  on  terms  of  the  utmost  good  fellow- 
ship, and  he  meets  you  again,  at  half -past  nine,  and 
greets  you  as  a  serpent,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  con- 
clude that  something  of  an  unpleasant  nature  has 
occurred  meanwhile.  So  Mr.  Winkle  thought.  He 
returned  Mr.  Pott's  gaze  of  stone,  and  in  compliance 
with  that  gentleman's  request  proceeded  to  make  the 
most  he  could  of  the  'serpent.'  The  most,  however, 
was  nothing  at  all;  so,  after  a  profound  silence  of 
some  minutes'  duration,  he  said — 

'Serpent,  sir!  Serpent,  Mr.  Pott!  What  can  you 
mean,  sir? — this  is  pleasantry.' 

'Pleasantry,  sir!'  exclaimed  Pott,  with  a  motion  of 
the  hand,  indicative  of  a  strong  desire  to  hurl  the 
Britannia  metal  tea-pot  at  the  head  of  his  visitor. 
'Pleasantry,  sir! — but  no,  I  will  be  calm;  I  will  be 
calm,  sir';  in  proof  of  his  calmness,  Mr.  Pott  flung 
himself  into  a  chair,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

^My  dear  sir,'  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Dear  sir!'  replied  Pott.  'How  dare  you  address 
me,  as  dear  sir,  sir?  How  dare  you  look  me  in  the 
face  and  do  it,  sir?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  313 

'Well,  sir,  if  you  come  to  that,'  responded  Mr. 
Winkle,  'how  dare  you  look  me  in  the  face,  and  call 
me  a  serpent,  sir?' 

'Because  you  are  one,'  replied  Mr.  Pott. 
'Prove  it,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  warmly.     Trove  it.' 
A  malignant  scowl  passed  over  the  profound  face 
of  the  editor,  as  he  drew  from  his  pocket,  the  Inde- 
pendent of  that  morning;  and  laying  his  finger  on  a 
particular  paragraph,  threw  the  journal  across  the 
table  to  Mr.  Winkle. 

That  gentleman  took  it  up,  and  read  as  follows:— 
'Our  obscure  and  filthy  contemporary,  in  some  dis- 
gusting observations  on  the  recent  election  for  this 
borough,  has  presumed  to  violate  the  hallowed  sanc- 
tity of  private  life,  and  to  refer,  in  a  manner  not  to 
be  misunderstood,  to  the  personal  affairs  of  our  late 
candidate — aye,  and  notwithstanding  his  base  defeat, 
we  will  add,  our  future  member,  Mr.  Fizkin.  What 
does  our  dastardly  contemporary  mean  ?  What  would 
the  ruffian  say,  if  we,  setting  at  naught,  like  him, 
the  decencies  of  social  intercourse,  were  to  raise  the 
curtain  which  happily  conceals  HIS  private  life  from 
general  ridicule,  not  to  say  from  general  execration? 
What,  if  we  were  even  to  point  out,  and  comment  on 
facts  and  circumstances,  which  are  publicly  notorious, 
and  beheld  by  every  one,  but  our  mole-eyed  contem- 
porary— what  if  we  were  to  print  the  following  effu- 
sion, which  we  received  while  we  were  writing  the 
commencement  of  this  article,  from  a  talented  fellow- 
townsman  and  correspondent ! 

'  "LINES  TO  A  BRASS  POT 

'  "Oh  Pott !  if  you  'd  known 

How  false  she  'd  have  grown, 
When  you  heard  the  marriage  bells  tinkle; 
You  'd  have  done  then  I  vow, 


314,  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

What  you  cannot  help  now, 
And  handed  her  over  to  W  ***** 

'What,'  said  Mr.  Pott,  solemnly:  'what  rhymes  to 
"tinkle,"  villain?' 

'What  rhymes  to  tinkle?'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  whose 
entrance  at  the  moment  forestalled  the  reply.  'What 
rhymes  to  tinkle?  Why,  Winkle,  I  should  conceive': 
saying  this,  Mrs.  Pott  smiled  sweetly  on  the  disturbed 
Pickwickian,  and  extended  her  hand  towards  him. 
The  agitated  young  man  would  have  accepted  it,  in 
his  confusion,  had  not  Pott  indignantly  interposed. 

'Back,  ma'am — back!'  said  the  editor.  'Take  his 
hand  before  my  very  face !' 

'Mr.  P 1'  said  his  astonished  lady. 

'Wretched  woman,  look  here,'  exclaimed  the  hus- 
band. 'Look  here,  ma'am — "Lines  to  a  Brass  Pot." 
"Brass  pot" ; — that 's  me,  ma'am.  "False  she  'd  have 
grown" ; — that 's  you,  ma'am — you.'  With  this  ebul- 
lition of  rage,  which  was  not  unaccompanied  with 
something  like  a  tremble,  at  the  expression  of  his 
wife's  face,  Mr.  Pott  dashed  the  current  number  of 
the  Eatanswill  Independent  at  her  feet. 

'Upon  my  word,  sir,'  said  the  astonished  Mrs.  Pott, 
stooping  to  pick  up  the  paper.  'Upon  my  word, 
sir!' 

Mr.  Pott  winced  beneath  the  contemptuous  gaze  of 
his  wife.  He  had  made  a  desperate  struggle  to  screw 
up  his  courage,  but  it  was  fast  coming  unscrewed 
again. 

There  appears  nothing  very  tremendous  in  this 
little  sentence,  'Upon  my  word,  sir,'  when  it  comes  to 
be  read;  but  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  it  was  deliv- 
ered, and  the  look  that  accompanied  it,  both  seeming 
to  bear  reference  to  some  revenge  to  be  thereafter 
visited  upon  the  head  of  Pott,  produced  their  full 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          315 

effect  upon  him.  The  most  unskilful  observer  could 
have  detected  in  his  troubled  countenance,  a  readiness 
to  resign  his  Wellington  boots  to  any  efficient  substi- 
tute who  would  have  consented  to  stand  in  them  at 
that  moment. 

Mrs.  Pott  read  the  paragraph,  uttered  a  loud 
shriek,  and  threw  herself  at  full  length  on  the  hearth- 
rug, screaming,  and  tapping  it  with  the  heels  of  her 
shoes,  in  a  manner  which  could  leave  no  doubt  of  the 
propriety  of  her  feelings  on  the  occasion. 

'My  dear,'  said  the  petrified  Pott, — 'I  didn't  say  I 
believed  it ; — I — '  but  the  unfortunate  man's  voice  was 
drowned  in  the  screaming  of  his  partner. 

'Mrs.  Pott,  let  me  entreat  you,  my  dear  ma'am,  to 
compose  yourself,'  said  Mr.  Winkle;  but  the  shrieks 
and  tappings  were  louder,  and  more  frequent  than 
ever. 

'My  dear,'  said  Mr.  Pott,  'I  'm  very  sorry.  If  you 
won't  consider  your  own  health,  consider  me,  my  dear. 
We  shall  have  a  crowd  round  the  house.'  But  the 
more  strenuously  Mr.  Pott  entreated,  the  more  ve- 
hemently the  screams  poured  forth. 

Very  fortunately,  however,  attached  to  Mrs.  Pott's 
person  was  a  body-guard  of  one,  a  young  lady  whose 
ostensible  employment  was  to  preside  over  her  toilet, 
but  who  rendered  herself  useful  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
and  in  none  more  so  than  in  the  particular  department 
of  constantly  aiding  and  abetting  her  mistress  in  every 
wish  and  inclination  opposed  to  the  desires  of  the 
unhappy  Pott.  The  screams  reached  this  young 
lady's  ears  in  due  course,  and  brought  her  into  the 
room  with  a  speed  which  threatened  to  derange,  ma- 
terially, the  very  exquisite  arrangement  of  her  cap 
and  ringlets. 

'Oh,  my  dear,  dear  mistress!'  exclaimed  the  body- 
guard, kneeling  frantically  by  the  side  of  the  prostrate 


316  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mrs.  Pott.  'Oh,  my  dear  mistress,  what  is  the 
matter?' 

'Your  master — your  brutal  master,'  murmured  the 
patient. 

Pott  was  evidently  giving  way. 

'It 's  a  shame,'  said  the  body-guard,  reproachfully. 
'I  know  he  '11  be  the  death  of  you,  ma'am.  Poor  dear 
thing!' 

He  gave  way  more.  The  opposite  party  followed 
up  the  attack. 

'Oh,  don't  leave  me — don't  leave  me,  Goodwin,' 
murmured  Mrs.  Pott,  clutching  at  the  wrist  of  the 
said  Goodwin  with  an  hysteric  jerk.  'You  're  the 
only  person  that 's  kind  to  me,  Goodwin.' 

At  this  affecting  appeal,  Goodwin  got  up  a  little 
domestic  tragedy  of  her  own,  and  shed  tears  copiously. 

'Never,  ma'am — never,'  said  Goodwin.  'Oh,  sir, 
you  should  be  careful — you  should  indeed;  you  don't 
know  what  harm  you  may  do  missis ;  you  '11  be  sorry 
for  it  one  day,  I  know — I  've  always  said  so.' 

The  unlucky  Pott  looked  timidly  on,  but  said 
nothing. 

'Goodwin,'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  a  soft  voice. 

'Ma'am,'  said  Goodwin. 

'If  you  only  knew  how  I  have  loved  that  man — ' 

'Don't  distress  yourself  by  recollecting  it,  ma'am/ 
said  the  body-guard. 

Pott  looked  very  frightened.  It  was  time  to  finish 
him. 

'And  now,'  sobbed  Mrs.  Pott,  'now,  after  all,  to 
be  treated  in  this  way;  to  be  reproached  and  insulted 
in  the  presence  of  a  third  party,  and  that  party  almost 
a  stranger.  But  I  will  not  submit  to  it!  Goodwin,' 
continued  Mrs.  Pott,  raising  herself  in  the  arms  of 
her  attendant,  'my  brother,  the  Lieutenant,  shall  inter- 
fere. I  '11  be  separated,  Goodwin!' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  317 

'It  would  certainly  serve  him  right,  ma'am,'  said 
Goodwin. 

Whatever  thoughts  the  threat  of  a  separation  might 
have  awakened  in  Mr.  Pott's  mind,  he  forebore  to 
give  utterance  to  them,  and  contented  himself  by  say- 
ing, with  great  humility — 

'My  dear,  will  you  hear  me?' 

A  fresh  train  of  sobs  was  the  only  reply,  as  Mrs. 
Pott  grew  more  hysterical,  requested  to  be  informed 
why  she  was  ever  born,  and  required  sundry  other 
pieces  of  information  of  a  similar  description. 

'My  dear,'  remonstrated  Mr.  Pott,  'do  not  give  way 
to  these  sensitive  feelings.  I  never  believed  that  the 
paragraph  had  any  foundation,  my  dear — impossible. 
I  was  only  angry,  my  dear — I  may  say  outrageous — 
with  the  Independent  people  for  daring  to  insert  it; 
that 's  all' ;  Mr.  Pott  cast  an  imploring  look  at  the 
innocent  cause  of  the  mischief,  as  if  to  entreat  him 
to  say  nothing  about  the  serpent. 

'And  what  steps,  sir,  do  you  mean  to  take  to  obtain 
redress?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  gaining  courage  as 
he  saw  Pott  losing  it. 

'Oh,  Goodwin,'  observed  Mrs.  Pott,  'does  he  mean 
to  horsewhip  the  editor  of  the  Independent — does  he, 
Goodwin?' 

'Hush,  hush,  ma'am;  pray  keep  yourself  quiet,'  re- 
plied the  body-guard.  'I  dare  say  he  will,  if  you 
wish  it,  ma'am.' 

'Certainly,'  said  Pott,  as  his  wife  evinced  decided 
symptoms  of  going  off  again.  'Of  course  I  shall.' 

'When,  Goodwin—when?'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  still  un- 
decided about  the  going  off. 

'Immediately,  of  course,'  said  Mr.  Pott;  'before  the 
day  is  out.' 

'Oh,  Goodwin,'  resumed  Mrs.  Pott,  'it 's  the  only 


318  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

way  of  meeting  the  slander,  and  setting  me  right  with 
the  world.' 

'Certainly,  ma'am,'  replied  Goodwin.  'No  man  as 
is  a  man,  ma'am,  could  refuse  to  do  it.' 

So,  as  the  hysterics  were  still  hovering  about,  Mr. 
Pott  said  once  more  that  he  would  do  it;  but  Mrs. 
Pott  was  so  overcome  at  the  bare  idea  of  having  ever 
been  suspected,  that  she  was  half  a  dozen  times  on 
the  very  verge  of  a  relapse,  and  most  unquestionably 
would  have  gone  off,  had  it  not  been  for  the  inde- 
fatigable efforts  of  the  assiduous  Goodwin,  and  re- 
peated entreaties  for  pardon  from  the  conquered 
Pott;  and  finally,  when  that  unhappy  individual  had 
been  frightened  and  snubbed  down  to  his  proper 
level,  Mrs.  Pott  recovered,  and  they  went  to  break- 
fast. 

'You  will  not  allow  this  base  newspaper  slander  to 
shorten  your  stay  here,  Mr.  Winkle?'  said  Mrs.  Pott, 
smiling  through  the  traces  of  her  tears. 

'I  hope  not,'  said  Mr.  Pott,  actuated,  as  he  spoke, 
by  a  wish  that  his  visitor  would  choke  himself  with 
a  morsel  of  dry  toast  which  he  was  raising  to  his  lips 
at  the  moment:  and  so  terminate  his  stay  effectually. 

'I  hope  not.' 

'You  are  very  good,'  said  Mr.  Winkle ;  'but  a  letter 
has  been  received  from  Mr.  Pickwick — so  I  learn 
by  a  note  from  Mr.  Tupman,  which  was  brought  up 
to  my  bed-room  door  this  morning — in  which  he  re- 
quests us  to  join  him  at  Bury  to-day;  and  we  are  to 
leave  by  the  coach  at  noon.' 

'But  you  will  come  back?'  said  Mrs.  Pott. 

'Oh,  certainly,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

'You  are  quite  sure?'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  stealing  a 
tender  look  at  her  visitor. 

'Quite,'  responded  Mr.  Winkle. 

The  breakfast  passed  off  in  silence,  for  each  mem- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  819 

ber  of  the  party  was  brooding  over  his,  or  her,  own 
personal  grievances.  Mrs.  Pott  was  regretting  the 
loss  of  a  beau;  Mr.  Pott  his  rash  pledge  to  horsewhip 
the  Independent;  Mr.  Winkle  his  having  innocently 
placed  himself  in  so  awkward  a  situation.  Noon  ap- 
proached, and  after  many  adieux  and  promises  to 
return,  he  tore  himself  away. 

'If  he  ever  comes  back,  I  '11  poison  him,'  thought 
Mr.  Pott,  as  he  turned  into  the  little  back  office  where 
he  prepared  his  thunderbolts. 

'If  I  ever  do  come  back,  and  mix  myself  up  with 
these  people  again,'  thought  Mr.  Winkle,  as  he 
wended  his  way  to  the  Peacock,  'I  shall  deserve  to  be 
horsewhipped  myself — that 's  all.' 

His  friends  wrere  ready,  the  coach  was  nearly  so, 
and  in  half  an  hour  they  were  proceeding  on  their 
journey,  along  the  road  over  which  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Sam  had  so  recently  travelled,  and  of  which,  as 
we  have  already  said  something,  we  do  not  feel  called 
upon  to  extract  Mr.  Snodgrass's  poetical  and  beauti- 
ful description. 

Mr.  Weller  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  Angel, 
ready  to  receive  them,  and  by  that  gentleman  they 
were  ushered  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
where,  to  the  no  small  surprise  of  Mr.  Winkle  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  the  no  small  embarrassment  of 
Mr.  Tupman,  they  found  old  Wardle  and  Trundle. 

'How  are  you?'  said  the  old  man,  grasping  Mr. 
Tupman's  hand.  'Don't  hang  back,  or  look  senti- 
mental about  it;  it  can't  be  helped,  old  fellow.  For 
her  sake,  I  wish  you  'd  had  her;  for  your  own,  I  'm 
very  glad  you  have  not.  A  young  fellow  like  you 
will  do  better  one  of  these  days— eh?'  With  this 
consolation,  Wardle  slapped  Mr.  Tupman  on  the 
back,  and  laughed  heartily. 

'Well,  and  how  are  you,  my  fine  fellows?'  said  the 


320  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

old  gentleman,  shaking  hands  with  Mr.  Winkle  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  at  the  same  time.  'I  have  just  been 
telling  Pickwick  that  we  must  have  you  all  down  at 
Christmas.  We  're  going  to  have  a  wedding — a  real 
wedding  this  time.' 

'A  wedding!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  turning 
very  pale. 

'Yes,  a  wedding.  But  don't  be  frightened,'  said 
the  good-humoured  old  man;  'it 's  only  Trundle  there, 
and  Bella.' 

'Oh,  is  that  all!'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  relieved  from 
a  painful  doubt  which  had  fallen  heavily  on  his 
breast.  'Give  you  joy,  sir.  How  is  Joe?' 

'Very  well,'  replied  the  old  gentleman.  'Sleepy  as 
ever.' 

'And  your  mother,  and  the  clergyman,  and  all  of 
'em?' 

'Quite  well.' 

'Where,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  effort — 'where 
is — she,  sir?'  and  he  turned  away  his  head,  and  cov- 
ered his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

'She!'  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  knowing 
shake  of  the  head.  'Do  you  mean  my  single  relative 
—eh?' 

Mr.  Tupman,  by  a  nod,  intimated  that  his  question 
applied  to  the  disappointed  Rachael. 

'Oh,  she 's  gone  away,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 
'She 's  living  at  a  relation's,  far  enough  off.  She 
couldn't  bear  to  see  the  girls,  so  I  let  her  go.  But 
come !  Here 's  the  dinner.  You  must  be  hungry 
after  your  ride.  I  am,  without  any  ride  at  all;  so 
let  us  fall  to.' 

Ample  justice  was  done  to  the  meal;  and  when  they 
were  seated  round  the  table,  after  it  had  been  dis- 
posed of,  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  the  intense  horror  and 
indignation  of  his  followers,  related  the  adventure  he 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  321 

had  undergone,  and  the  success  which  had  attended 
the  base  artifices  of  the  diabolical  Jingle. 

'And  the  attack  of  rheumatism  which  I  caught  in 
that  garden,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  conclusion, 
'renders  me  lame  at  this  moment.' 

'I,  too,  have  had  something  of  an  adventure,'  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  with  a  smile;  and  at  the  request  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  he  detailed  the  malicious  libel  of  the  Eatans- 
will  Independent,  and  the  consequent  excitement  of 
their  friend,  the  editor. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  brow  darkened  during  the  recital. 
His  friends  observed  it,  and,  when  Mr.  Winkle  had 
concluded,  maintained  a  profound  silence.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick struck  the  table  emphatically  with  his  clenched 
fist,  and  spoke  as  follows — 

'Is  it  not  a  wonderful  circumstance,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'that  we  seem  destined  to  enter  no  man's  house 
without  involving  him  in  some  degree  of  trouble? 
Does  it  not,  I  ask,  bespeak  the  indiscretion,  or,  worse 
than  that,  the  blackness  of  heart — that  I  should  say 
so! — of  my  followers,  that,  beneath  whatever  roof 
they  locate,  they  disturb  the  peace  of  mind  and  hap- 
piness of  some  confiding  female?  Is  it  not,  I  say- 
Mr.  Pickwick  would  in  all  probability  have  gone 
on  for  some  time,  had  not  the  entrance  of  Sam,  with 
a  letter,  caused  him  to  break  off  in  his  eloquent  dis- 
course. He  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  fore- 
head, took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and  put 
them  on  again ;  and  his  voice  had  recovered  its  wonted 
softness  of  tone  when  he  said — 

'What  have  you  there,  Sam?' 

'Called  at  the  Post-office  just  now,  and  found  this 
here  letter,  as  has  laid  there  for  two  days,'  replied 
Mr.  Weller.  'It 's  sealed  with  a  vafer,  and  directed 
in  round  hand.' 

'I  don't  know  this  hand,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  open- 


322  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ing  the  letter.  'Mercy  on  us!  what 's  this?  It  must 
be  a  jest;  it — it — can't  be  true.' 

'What 's  the  matter?'  was  the  general  inquiry. 

'Nobody  dead,  is  there?'  said  Wardle,  alarmed  at 
the  horror  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  reply,  but,  pushing  the  let- 
ter across  the  table,  and  desiring  Mr.  Tupman  to 
read  it  aloud,  fell  back  in  his  chair  with  a  look  of 
vacant  astonishment  quite  alarming  to  behold. 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  a  trembling  voice,  read  the  let- 
ter, of  which  the  following  is  a  copy : — 

Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill, 
August  28th,  1830. 

Sir, 

Bardell  against  Pickwick. 
Having  been  instructed  by  Mrs.  Martha  Bar* 
dell  to  commence  an  action  against  you  for  a  breach 
of  promise  of  marriage.,  for  which  the  plaintiff  lays 
her  damages  at  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  we  beg  to 
inform  you  that  a  writ  has  been  issued  against  you 
in  this  suit  in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas;  and  request 
to  know,  by  return  of  post,  the  name  of  your  attorney 
in  London,  who  will  accept  service  thereof. 
We  are,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servants, 

Dodson  and  Fogg. 

Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick. 

There  was  something  so  impressive  in  the  mute 
astonishment  with  which  each  man  regarded  his 
neighbour,  and  every  man  regarded  Mr.  Pickwick, 
that  all  seemed  afraid  to  speak.  The  silence  was  at 
length  broken  by  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Dodson  and  Fogg/  he  repeated  mechanically. 

'Bardell  and  Pickwick,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
musing. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  323 

'Peace  of  mind  and  happiness  of  confiding  fe- 
males,' murmured  Mr.  Winkle,  with  an  air  of  abstrac- 
tion. 

'It 's  a  conspiracy/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  length 
recovering  the  power  of  speech;  'a  base  conspiracy 
between  these  two  grasping  attorneys,  Dodson  and 
Fogg.  Mrs.  Bardell  would  never  do  it; — she  hasn't 
the  heart  to  do  it; — she  hasn't  the  case  to  do  it. 
Ridiculous — ridiculous.' 

'Of  her  heart,'  said  Wardle,  with  a  smile,  'you 
should  certainly  be  the  best  judge.  I  don't  wish  to 
discourage  you,  but  I  should  certainly  say  that,  of  her 
case,  Dodson  and  Fogg  are  far  better  judges  than 
any  of  us  can  be.' 

'It 's  a  vile  attempt  to  extort  money,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'I  hope  it  is,'  said  Wardle,  with  a  short,  dry  cough. 

'Who  ever  heard  me  address  her  in  any  way  but 
that  in  which  a  lodger  would  address  his  landlady?' 
continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  vehemence. 
'Who  ever  saw  me  with  her?  Not  even  my  friends 
here — ' 

'Except  on  one  occasion,'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

Mr.  Pickwick  changed  colour. 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  Wardle.  'Well,  that 's  important. 
There  was  nothing  suspicious  then,  I  suppose?' 

Mr.  Tupman  glanced  timidly  at  his  leader. 
"Why,'  said  he,  'there  was  nothing  suspicious;  but — I 
don't  know  how  it  happened,  mind — she  certainly  was 
reclining  in  his  arms.' 

'Gracious  powers!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the 
recollection  of  the  scene  in  question  struck  forcibly 
upon  him;  'what  a  dreadful  instance  of  the  force 
of  circumstances !  So  she  was — so  she  was.' 

'And  our  friend  was  soothing  her  anguish,'  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  rather  maliciously. 


324  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'So  I  was,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  won't  deny  it. 
So  I  was.' 

'Hallo!'  said  Wardle;  'for  a  case  in  which  there  's 
nothing  suspicious,  this  looks  rather  queer — eh,  Pick- 
wick? Ah,  sly  dog — sly  dog!'  and  he  laughed  till  the 
glasses  on  the  side-board  rang  again. 

'What  a  dreadful  conjunction  of  appearances!'  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Pickwick,  resting  his  chin  upon  his  hands. 
'Winkle — Tupman — I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  ob- 
servations I  made  just  now.  We  are  all  the  victims 
of  circumstances,  and  I  the  greatest.'  With  this 
apology  Mr.  Pickwick  buried  his  head  in  his  hands, 
and  ruminated ;  while  Wardle  measured  out  a  regular 
circle  of  nods  and  winks,  addressed  to  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  company. 

'I  '11  have  it  explained,  though,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
raising  his  head  and  hammering  the  table.  'I  '11  see 
this  Dodson  and  Fogg!  I'll  go  to  London  to- 
morrow.' 

'Not  to-morrow,'  said  Wardle ;  *y°u  're  too  lame.' 

'Well,  then,  next  day.' 

'Next  day  is  the  first  of  September,  and  you  're 
pledged  to  ride  out  with  us,  as  far  as  Sir  Geoffrey 
Manning's  grounds,  at  all  events,  and  to  meet  us  at 
lunch,  if  you  don't  take  the  field.' 

'Well,  then,  the  day  after,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick; 
'Thursday.— Sam!' 

'Sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'Take  two  places  outside  to  London,  on  Thursday 
morning,  for  yourself  and  me.' 

'Wery  well,  sir.' 

Mr.  Weller  left  the  room,  and  departed  slowly  on 
his  errand,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground. 

'Rum  feller,  the  hemperor,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  as  he 
walked  slowly  up  the  street.  'Think  o'  his  making 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  325 

up  to  that  ere  Mrs.  Bar  dell — vith  a  little  boy,  too! 
Always  the  vay  vith  these  here  old  'uns  hows'ever, 
as  is  such  steady  goers  to  look  at.  I  didn't  think  he  'd 
ha'  done  it,  though — I  didn't  think  he  'd  ha'  done  it !' 
Moralising  in  this  strain,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  bent  his 
steps  towards  the  booking-office. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  PLEASANT  DAY,  WITH  AN  UNPLEASANT  TERMINATION 

THE  birds,  who,  happily  for  their  own  peace  of  mind 
and  personal  comfort,  were  in  blissful  ignorance  of 
the  preparations  which  had  been  making  to  astonish 
them,  on  the  first  of  September,  hailed  it  no  doubt,  as 
one  of  the  pleasantest  mornings  they  had  seen  that 
season.  Many  a  young  partridge  who  strutted  com- 
placently among  the  stubble,  with  all  the  finicking 
coxcombry  of  youth,  and  many  an  older  one  who 
watched  his  levity  out  of  his  little  round  eye,  with 
the  contemptuous  air  of  a  bird  of  wisdom  and  ex- 
perience, alike  unconscious  of  their  approaching  doom, 
basked  in  the  fresh  morning  air  with  lively  and  blithe- 
some feelings,  and  a  few  hours  afterwards  were  laid 
low  upon  the  earth.  But  we  grow  affecting:  let  us 
proceed. 

In  plain  common-place  matter-of-fact,  then,  it  was 
a  fine  morning — so  fine  that  you  would  scarcely  have 
believed  that  the  few  months  of  an  English  summer 
had  yet  flown  by.  Hedges,  fields,  and  trees,  hill  and 
moorland,  presented  to  the  eye,  their  ever-varying 
shades  of  deep  rich  green;  scarce  a  leaf  had  fallen, 
scarce  a  sprinkle  of  yellow  mingled  with  the  hues  of 
summer,  warned  you  that  autumn  had  begun.  The 
sky  was  cloudless;  the  sun  shone  out  bright  and  warm; 


326  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  songs  of  birds,  and  hum  of  myriads  of  summer 
insects,  filled  the  air ;  and  the  cottage  gardens,  crowded 
with  flowers  of  every  rich  and  beautiful  tint,  sparkled, 
in  the  heavy  dew,  like  beds  of  glittering  jewels. 
Everything  bore  the  stamp  of  summer,  and  none  of 
its  beautiful  colours  had  yet  faded  from  the  die. 

Such  was  the  morning,  when  an  open  carriage,  in 
which  were  three  Pickwickians,  (Mr.  Snodgrass  hav- 
ing preferred  to  remain  at  home,)  Mr.  Wardle,  and 
Mr.  Trundle,  with  Sam  Weller  on  the  box  beside  the 
driver,  pulled  up  by  a  gate  at  the  road-side,  before 
which  stood  a  tall,  raw-boned  gamekeeper,  and  a  half- 
booted,  leather-leggined  boy:  each  bearing  a  bag  of 
capacious  dimensions,  and  accompanied  by  a  brace  of 
pointers. 

'I  say/  whispered  Mr.  Winkle  to  Wardle,  as  the 
man  let  down  the  steps,  'they  don't  suppose  we  're 
going  to  kill  game  enough  to  fill  those  bags,  do  they  ?' 

'Fill  them!'  exclaimed  old  Wardle.  'Bless  you, 
yes!  You  shall  fill  one,  and  I  the  other;  and  when 
we  've  done  with  them,  the  pockets  of  our  shooting- 
jackets  will  hold  as  much  more.' 

Mr.  Winkle  dismounted  without  saying  anything 
in  reply  to  this  observation ;  but  he  thought  within 
himself,  that  if  the  party  remained  in  the  open  air, 
until  he  had  filled  one  of  the  bags,  they  stood  a  con- 
siderable chance  of  catching  colds  in  their  heads. 

'Hi,  Juno,  lass — hi,  old  girl;  down,  Daph,  down.' 
said  Wardle,  caressing  the  dogs.  'Sir  Geoffrey  still 
in  Scotland,  of  course,  Martin?' 

The  tall  gamekeeper  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and 
looked  with  some  surprise  from  Mr.  Winkle,  who 
was  holding  his  gun  as  if  he  wished  his  coat  pocket 
to  save  him  the  trouble  of  pulling  the  trigger,  to  Mr. 
Tupman,  who  was  holding  his  as  if  he  were  afraid 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  327 

of  it — as  there  is  no  earthly  reason  to  doubt  he  really 
was. 

'My  friends  are  not  much  in  the  way  of  this  sort 
of  thing  yet,  Martin,'  said  Wardle,  noticing  the  look. 
'Live  and  learn,  you  know.  They  '11  be  good  shots 
one  of  these  days.  I  beg  my  friend  Winkle's  pardon, 
though ;  he  has  had  some  practice.' 

Mr.  Winkle  smiled  feebly  over  his  blue  neckerchief 
in  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment,  and  got  him- 
self so  mysteriously  entangled  with  his  gun,  in  his 
modest  confusion,  that  if  the  piece  had  been  loaded, 
he  must  inevitably  have  shot  himself  dead  upon  the 
spot. 

'You  mustn't  handle  your  piece  in  that  ere  way, 
when  you  come  to  have  the  charge  in  it,  sir,'  said  the 
tall  gamekeeper,  gruffly,  'or  I  'm  damned  if  you  won't 
make  cold  meat  of  some  on  us/ 

Mr.  Winkle  thus  admonished,  abruptly  altered  its 
position,  and  in  so  doing,  contrived  to  bring  the  bar- 
rel into  pretty  sharp  contact  with  Mr.  Weller's  head. 

'Hallo!'  said  Sam,  picking  up  his  hat,  which  had 
been  knocked  off,  and  rubbing  his  temple.  'Hallo, 
sir !  if  you  comes  it  this  vay,  you  '11  fill  one  o'  them 
bags,  and  something  to  spare  at  one  fire/ 

Here  the  leather-leggined  boy  laughed  very  heart- 
ily, and  then  tried  to  look  as  if  it  was  somebody  else, 
whereat  Mr.  Winkle  frowned  majestically. 

'Where  did  you  tell  the  boy  to  meet  us  with  the 
snack,  Martin?'  inquired  Wardle. 

'Side  of  One-tree  Hill,  at  twelve  o'clock,  sir/ 

'That's  not  Sir  Geoffrey's  land,  is  it?' 

'No,  sir;  but  it's  close  by  it.  It's  Captain  Bold- 
wig's  land ;  but  there  '11  be  nobody  to  interrupt  us, 
and  there  's  a  fine  bit  of  turf  there/ 

'Very  well,'  said  old  Wardle.     'Now  the  sooner 


328  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

we're  off  the  better.  Will  you  join  us  at  twelve, 
then,  Pickwick?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  particularly  desirous  to  view  the 
sport,  the  more  especially  as  he  was  rather  anxious  in 
respect  of  Mr.  Winkle's  life  and  limbs.  On  so  in- 
viting a  morning,  too,  it  was  very  tantalising  to  turn 
back,  and  leave  his  friends  to  enjoy  themselves.  It 
was,  therefore,  with  a  very  rueful  air  that  he  replied — 

'Why,  I  suppose  I  must.' 

'An't  the  gentleman  a  shot,  sir?'  inquired  the  long 
gamekeeper. 

'No,'  replied  Wardle;  'and  he  's  lame  besides.' 

'I  should  very  much  like  to  go,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Very  much.' 

There  was  a  short  pause  of  commiseration. 

'There  's  a  barrow  t'  other  side  the  hedge,'  said  the 
boy.  'If  the  gentleman's  servant  would  wheel  along 
the  paths,  he  could  keep  nigh  us,  and  we  could  lift 
it  over  the  stiles,  and  that.' 

'The  wery  thing,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  was  a  party 
interested,  inasmuch  as  he  ardently  longed  to  see  the 
sport.  'The  wery  thing.  Well  said,  smallcheck ;  I  '11 
have  it  out  in  a  minute.' 

But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  The  long  gamekeeper 
resolutely  protested  against  the  introduction  into  a 
shooting  party,  of  a  gentleman  in  a  barrow,  as  a  gross 
violation  of  all  established  rules  and  precedents. 

It  was  a  great  objection,  but  not  an  insurmount- 
able one.  The  gamekeeper  having  been  coaxed  and 
feed,  and  having,  moreover,  eased  his  mind  by  'punch- 
ing' the  head  of  the  inventive  youth  who  had  first 
suggested  the  use  of  the  machine,  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
placed  in  it,  and  off  the  party  set;  Wardle  and  the 
long  gamekeeper  leading  the  way,  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
in  the  barrow,  propelled  by  Sam,  bringing  up  the 
rear. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  329 

'Stop,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  they  had  got 
half  across  the  first  field. 

'What 's  the  matter  now?'  said  Wardle. 

'I  won't  suffer  this  barrow  to  be  moved  another 
siep,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  resolutely,  'unless  Winkle 
carries  that  gun  of  his  in  a  different  manner.' 

'How  am  I  to  carry  it?'  said  the  wretched  Winkle. 

'Carry  it  with  the  muzzle  to  the  ground,'  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It 's  so  unsportsman-like,'  reasoned  Winkle. 

'I  don't  care  whether  it 's  unsportsman-like  or  not,' 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick ;  'I  am  not  going  to  be  shot  in  a 
wheelbarrow,  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  to  please 
anybody.' 

'I  know  the  gentleman  '11  put  that  ere  charge  into 
somebody  afore  he  's  done,'  growled  the  long  man. 

'Well,  well — I  don't  mind,'  said  poor  Winkle,  turn- 
ing his  gunstock  uppermost ; — 'there.' 

'Any thin'  for  a  quiet  life,'  said  Mr.  Weller ;  and  on 
they  went  again. 

'Stop!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  they  had  gone  a 
few  yards  further. 

'What  now  ?'  said  Wardle. 

'That  gun  of  Tupman's  is  not  safe :  I  know  it  isn't,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Eh?  What !  not  safe?'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  a  tone 
of  great  alarm. 

'Not  as  you  are  carrying  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I 
am  very  sorry  to  make  any  further  objection,  but  I 
cannot  consent  to  go  on,  unless  you  carry  it  as  Winkle 
does  his.' 

'I  think  you  had  better,  sir,'  said  the  long  game- 
keeper, 'or  you  're  quite  as  likely  to  lodge  the  charge 
in  yourself  as  in  anything  else.' 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  the  most  obliging  haste,  placed 
his  piece  in  the  position  required,  and  the  party  moved 


330  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

on  again;  the  two  amateurs  marching  with  reversed 
arms,  like  a  couple  of  privates  at  a  royal  funeral. 

The  dogs  suddenly  came  to  a  dead  stop,  and  the 
party  advancing  stealthily  a  single  pace,  stopped  too. 

'What 's  the  matter  with  the  dogs'  legs?'  whispered 
Mr.  Winkle.  'How  queer  they  're  standing.' 

'Hush,  can't  you?'  replied  Wardle,  softly.  'Don't 
you  see,  they  're  making  a  point?' 

'Making  a  point!'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  staring  about 
him,  as  if  he  expected  to  discover  some  particular 
beauty  in  the  landscape,  which  the  sagacious  animals 
were  calling  special  attention  to.  'Making  a  point! 
What  are  they  pointing  at  ?' 

'Keep  your  eyes  open,'  said  Wardle,  not  heeding 
the  question  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment.  'Now 
then/ 

There  was  a  sharp  whirring  noise,  that  made  Mr. 
Winkle  start  back  as  if  he  had  been  shot  himself. 
Bang,  bang,  went  a  couple  of  guns— the  smoke  swept 
quickly  away  over  the  field,  and  curled  into  the  air. 

'Where  are  they  ?'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  a  state  of  the 
highest  excitement,  turning  round  and  round  in  all 
directions.  'Where  are  they?  Tell  me  when  to  fire. 
Where  are  they — where  are  they?' 

'Where  are  they  ?'  said  Wardle,  taking  up  a  brace  of 
birds  which  the  dogs  had  deposited  at  his  feet.  'Why, 
here  they  are.' 

'No,  no;  I  mean  the  others/  said  the  bewildered 
Winkle. 

'Far  enough  off,  by  this  time,'  replied  Wardle, 
coolly  reloading  his  gun. 

'We  shall  very  likely  be  up  with  another  covey  in 
five  minutes,'  said  the  long  gamekeeper.  'If  the 
gentleman  begins  to  fire  now,  perhaps  he  '11  just  get 
the  shot  out  of  the  barrel  by  the  time  they  rise.' 

'Ha!  ha!  ha!'  roared  Mr.  Weller. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  331 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  compassionating  his  fol- 
lower's confusion  and  embarrassment. 

'Sir.' 

'Don't  laugh.' 

'Certainly  not,  sir.'  So,  by  way  of  indemnification, 
Mr.  Weller  contorted  his  features  from  behind  the 
wheelbarrow,  for  the  exclusive  amusement  of  the  boy 
with  the  leggings,  who  thereupon  burst  into  a  boister- 
ous laugh,  and  was  summarily  cuffed  by  the  long 
gamekeeper,  who  wanted  a  pretext  for  turning  round, 
to  hide  his  own  merriment. 

'Bravo,  old  fellow!'  said  Wardle  to  Mr.  Tupman; 
'you  fired  that  time,  at  all  events.' 

'Oh  yes,'  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  with  conscious  pride. 
'I  let  it  off: 

'Well  done.  You  '11  hit  something  next  time,  if 
you  look  sharp.  Very  easy,  ain't  it  ?' 

'Yes,  it 's  very  easy,'  said  Mr.  Tupman.  'How  it 
hurts  one's  shoulder,  though.  It  nearly  knocked  me 
backwards.  I  had  no  idea  these  small  fire-arms  kicked 
so.' 

'Ah,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  smiling;  'you'll  get 
used  to  it  in  time.  Now  then — all  ready — all  right 
with  the  barrow  there  ?' 

'All  right,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'Come  along,  then.' 

'Hold  hard,  sir,'  said  Sam,  raising  the  barrow. 

'Aye,  aye,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  on  they  went, 
as  briskly  as  need  be. 

'Keep  that  barrow  back  now,'  cried  Wardle,  when 
it  had  been  hoisted  over  a  stile  into  another  field,  and 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  deposited  in  it  once  more. 

'All  right,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  pausing. 

'Xow,  Winkle,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'follow  me 
softly,  and  don't  be  too  late  this  time.' 


332  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Never  fear,'  said  Mr.  Winkle.  'Are  they  point- 
ing?' 

'No,  no;  not  now.  Quietly  now,  quietly.'  On  they 
crept,  and  very  quietly  they  would  have  advanced,  if 
Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  performance  of  some  very  intri- 
cate evolutions  with  his  gun,  had  not  accidentally  fired, 
at  the  most  critical  moment,  over  the  boy's  head, 
exactly  in  the  very  spot  where  the  tall  man's  brain 
would  have  been,  had  he  been  there  instead. 

'Why,  what  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for?'  said  old 
Wardle,  as  the  birds  flew  unharmed  away. 

'I  never  saw  such  a  gun  in  my  life,'  replied  poor 
Mr.  Winkle,  looking  at  the  lock,  as  if  that  would  do 
any  good.  'It  goes  off  on  its  own  accord.  It  will  do 
it/ 

'Will  do  it!'  echoed  Wardle,  with  something  of 
irritation  in  his  manner.  'I  wish  it  would  kill  some- 
thing of  its  own  accord/ 

'It  '11  do  that  afore  long,  sir,'  observed  the  tall  man, 
in  a  low,  prophetic  voice. 

'What  do  you  mean  by  that  observation,  sir?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Winkle,  angrily. 

'Never  mind,  sir,  never  mind,'  replied  the  long 
gamekeeper ;  'I  've  no  family  myself,  sir ;  and  this  here 
boy's  mother  will  get  something  handsome  from  Sir 
Geoffrey,  if  he  's  killed  on  his  land.  Load  again,  sir, 
load  again/ 

'Take  away  his  gun,'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the 
barrow,  horror-stricken  at  the  long  man's  dark  insin- 
uations. 'Take  away  his  gun,  do  you  hear,  some- 
body?' 

Nobody,  however,  volunteered  to  obey  the  com- 
mand; and  Mr.  Winkle,  after  darting  a  rebellious 
glance  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  reloaded  his  gun,  and  pro- 
ceeded onwards  with  the  rest. 

We  are  bound,  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  333 

to  state,  that  Mr.  Tupman's  mode  of  proceeding 
evinced  far  more  of  prudence  and  deliberation,  than 
that  adopted  by  Mr.  Winkle.  Still,  this  by  no  means 
detracts  from  the  great  authority  of  the  latter  gentle- 
man, on  all  matters  connected  with  the  field;  because, 
as  Mr.  Pickwick  beautifully  observes,  it  has  somehow 
or  other  happened,  from  time  immemorial,  that  many 
of  the  best  and  ablest  philosophers,  who  have  been  per- 
fect lights  of  science  in  matters  of  theory,  have  been 
wholly  unable  to  reduce  them  to  practice. 

Mr.  Tupman's  process,  like  many  of  our  most  sub- 
lime discoveries,  was  extremely  simple.  With  the 
quickness  and  penetration  of  a  man  of  genius,  he  had 
at  once  observed  that  the  two  great  points  to  be  at- 
tained were — first,  to  discharge  his  piece  without 
injury  to  himself,  and,  secondly,  to  do  so,  without 
danger  to  the  by-standers ; — obviously,  the  best  thing 
to  do,  after  surmounting  the  difficulty  of  firing  at  all, 
was  to  shut  his  eyes  firmly,  and  fire  into  the  air. 

On  one  occasion,  after  performing  this  feat,  Mr. 
Tupman,  on  opening  his  eyes,  beheld  a  plump  par- 
tridge in  the  act  of  falling  wounded  to  the  ground. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  congratulating  Mr.  Wardle 
on  his  invariable  success,  when  that  gentleman  ad- 
vanced towards  him,  and  grasped  him  warmly  by  the 
hand. 

'Tupman,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'you  singled  out 
that  particular  bird  ?' 

'No,'  said  Mr.  Tupman — 'no.' 

'You  did,'  said  Wardle.  'I  saw  you  do  it — I  ob- 
served you  pick  him  out — I  noticed  you,  as  you  raised 
your  piece  to  take  aim;  and  I  will  say  this,  that  the 
best  shot  in  existence  could  not  have  done  it  more 
beautifully.  You  are  an  older  hand  at  this,  than  I 
thought  you,  Tupman ;  you  have  been  out  before.' 

It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Tupman  to  protest,  with  a 


334  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

smile  of  self-denial,  that  he  never  had.  The  very 
smile  was  taken  as  evidence  to  the  contrary ;  and  from 
that  time  forth,  his  reputation  was  established.  It 
is  not  the  only  reputation  that  has  been  acquired  as 
easily,  nor  are  such  fortunate  circumstances  confined 
to  partridge-shooting. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Winkle  flashed,  and  blazed,  and 
smoked  away,  without  producing  any  material  results 
worthy  of  being  noted  down;  sometimes  expending 
his  charge  in  mid-air,  and  at  others  sending  it  skim- 
ming along  so  near  the  surface  of  the  ground  as  to 
place  the  lives  of  the  two  dogs  on  a  rather  uncertain 
and  precarious  tenure.  As  a  display  of  fancy  shoot- 
ing, it  was  extremely  varied  and  curious ;  as  an  exhibi- 
tion of  firing  with  any  precise  object,  it  was,  upon  the 
whole,  perhaps  a  failure.  It  is  an  established  axiom, 
that  'every  bullet  has  its  billet.'  If  it  apply  in  an 
equal  degree  to  shot,  those  of  Mr.  Winkle  were  unfor- 
tunate foundlings,  deprived  of  their  natural  rights, 
cast  loose  upon  the  world,  and  billeted  nowhere. 

'Well,'  said  Wardle,  walking  up  to  the  side  of  the 
barrow,  and  wiping  the  streams  of  perspiration  from 
his  jolly  red  face;  'smoking  day,  isn't  it?' 

'It  is,  indeed,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'The  sun  is 
tremendously  hot,  even  to  me.  I  don't  know  how  you 
must  feel  it.' 

'Why,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  'pretty  hot.  It 's 
past  twelve,  though.  You  see  that  green  hill  there?' 

'Certainly.' 

'That 's  the  place  where  we  are  to  lunch ;  and,  by 
Jove,  there 's  the  boy  with  the  basket,  punctual  as 
clock-work  T 

'So  he  is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  brightening  up. 
'Good  boy,  that.  I  '11  give  him  a  shilling  presently. 
Now,  then,  Sam,  wheel  away.' 

'Hold  on,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  invigorated  with  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          335 

prospect  of  refreshments.  'Out  of  the  vay,  young 
leathers.  If  you  walley  my  precious  life  don't  upset 
me,  as  the  gen'l'm'n  said  to  the  driver  when  they  was 
carryin'  him  to  Tyburn.'  And  quickening  his  pace 
to  a  sharp  run,  Mr.  Weller  wheeled  his  master  nimbly 
to  the  green  hill,  shot  him  dexterously  out  by  the  very 
side  of  the  basket,  and  proceeded  to  unpack  it  with  the 
utmost  despatch. 

'Weal  pie,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  soliloquising,  as  he 
arranged  the  eatables  on  the  grass.  'Wery  good 
thing  is  weal  pie,  when  you  know  the  lady  as  made  it, 
and  is  quite  sure  it  an't  kittens ;  and  arter  all,  though, 
where's  the  odds,  when  they  're  so  like  weal  that  the 
wery  piemen  themselves  don't  know  the  difference?' 

'Don't  they,  Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 

'Not  they,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  touching  his 
hat.  'I  lodged  in  the  same  house  vith  a  pieman  once, 
sir,  and  a  wery  nice  man  he  was — reg'lar  clever  chap, 
too — make  pies  out  o'  anything,  he  could.  "What 
a  number  o'  cats  you  keep,  Mr.  Brooks,"  says  I,  when 
I  'd  got  intimate  with  him.  "Ah,"  says  he,  "I  do— 
a  good  many,"  says  he.  "You  must  be  wery  fond  o5 
cats,"  says  I.  "Other  people  is,"  says  he,  a  winkin* 
at  me;  "they  an't  in  season  till  the  winter,  though," 
says  he.  "Not  in  season!"  says  I.  "Xo,"  says  he, 
"fruits  is  in,  cats  is  out."  "Why,  what  do  you  mean?" 
says  I.  "Mean?"  says  he.  "That  I'll  never  be  a 
party  to  the  combination  o'  butchers,  to  keep  up  the 
prices  o'  meat,"  says  he.  "Mr.  Weller,"  says  he,  a 
squeezing  my  hand  wery  hard,  and  vispering  in  my  ear 

-"don't  mention  this  here  agin — but  it 's  the  seasonin' 
as  does  it.  They  're  all  made  o'  them  noble  animals," 
says  he,  a  pointin'  to  a  wery  nice  little  tabby  kitten, 
"and  I  seasons  'em  for  beef -steak,  weal,  or  kidney, 
'cordin'  to  the  demand.  And  more  than  that,"  says 
he,  "I  can  make  a  weal  a  beef -steak,  or  a  beef -steak 


336  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

a  kidney,  or  any  one  on  'em  a  mutton,  at  a  minute's 
notice,  just  as  the  market  changes,  and  appetites 
wary!" 

'He  must  have  been  a  very  ingenious  young  man, 
that,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  slight  shudder. 

'Just  was,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  continuing  his 
occupation  of  emptying  the  basket,  'and  the  pies  was 
beautiful.  Tongue;  well,  that's  a  wery  good  thing 
when  it  an't  -a  woman's.  Bread — knuckle  o'  ham, 
reg'lar  picter — cold  beef  in  slices,  wery  good. 
What 's  in  them  stone  jars,  young  touch-and-go?' 

'Beer  in  this  one,'  replied  the  boy,  taking  from  his 
shoulder  a  couple  of  large  stone  bottles,  fastened 
together  by  a  leathern  strap — 'cold  punch  in  t'  other.' 

'And  a  wery  good  notion  of  a  lunch  it  is,  take  it 
altogether,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  surveying  his  arrange- 
ment of  the  repast  with  great  satisfaction.  'Now, 
genTm'n,  "fall  on,"  as  the  English  said  to  the  French 
when  they  fixed  bagginets.' 

It  needed  no  second  invitation  to  induce  the  party 
to  yield  full  justice  to  the  meal;  and  as  little  pressing 
did  it  require  to  induce  Mr.  Weller,  the  long  game- 
keeper, and  the  two  boys,  to  station  themselves  on  the 
grass,  at  a  little  distance,  and  do  good  execution  upon 
a  decent  proportion  of  the  viands.  An  old  oak  af- 
forded a  pleasant  shelter  to  the  group,  and  a  rich 
prospect  of  arable  and  meadow  land,  intersected  with 
luxuriant  hedges,  and  richly  ornamented  with  wood, 
lay  spread  out  below  them. 

'This  is  delightful — thoroughly  delightful!'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  the  skin  of  whose  expressive  counte- 
nance was  rapidly  peeling  off,  with  exposure  to  the 
sun. 

"So  it  is:  so  it  is,  old  fellow,'  replied  Wardle. 
'Come;  a  glass  of  punch!' 

'With  great  pleasure,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  the  satis- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPEHS  337 

faction  of  whose  countenance,  after  drinking  it,  bore 
testimony  to  the  sincerity  of  the  reply. 

'Good,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips. 
'Very  good.  I  '11  take  another.  Cool;  very  cool. 
Come,  gentlemen,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  still  re- 
taining his  hold  upon  the  jar,  'a  toast.  Our  friends 
at  Dingley  Dell.' 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  loud  acclamations. 

'I  '11  tell  you  what  I  shall  do,  to  get  up  my  shooting 
again/  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  eating  bread  and 
ham  with  a  pocket-knife.  'I  '11  put  a  stuffed  par- 
tridge on  the  top  of  a  post,  and  practise  at  it,  begin- 
ning at  a  short  distance,  and  lengthening  it  by 
degrees.  I  understand  it 's  capital  practice.' 

'I  know  a  genTm'n,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'as  did 
that,  and  begun  at  two  yards ;  but  he  never  tried  it  on 
agin;  for  he  blowed  the  bird  right  clean  away  at  the 
first  fire,  and  nobody  ever  seed  a  feather  on  him  arter- 
wards/ 

'Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Sir/  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'Have  the  goodness  to  reserve  your  anecdotes  till 
they  are  called  for.' 

'Cert'nly,  sir/ 

Here  Mr.  Weller  winked  the  eye  which  was  not  con- 
cealed by  the  beer-can  he  was  raising  to  his  lips  with 
such  exquisiteness,  that  the  two  boys  went  into  spon- 
taneous convulsions,  and  even  the  long  man  conde- 
scended to  smile. 

'Well,  that  certainly  is  most  capital  cold  punch/ 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  earnestly  at  the  stone 
bottle;  'and  the  day  is  extremely  warm,  and— Tup- 
man,  my  dear  friend,  a  glass  of  punch?' 

'With  the  greatest  delight/  replied  Mr.  Tupman; 
and  having  drank  that  glass,  Mr.  Pickwick  took  an- 
other, just  to  see  whether  there  was  any  orange  peel 


388  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

in  the  punch,  because  orange  peel  always  disagreed 
with  him,  and  finding  that  there  was  not,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick took  another  glass  to  the  health  of  their  absent 
friend,  and  then  felt  himself  imperatively  called  upon 
to  propose  another  in  honour  of  the  punch-com- 
pounder,  unknown. 

This  constant  succession  of  glasses  produced  consid- 
erable effect  upon  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  countenance 
beamed  with  the  most  sunny  smiles,  laughter  played 
around  his  lips,  and  good-humoured  merriment 
twinkled  in  his  eye.  Yielding  by  degrees  to  the  in- 
fluence of  the  exciting  liquid,  rendered  more  so  by 
the  heat,  Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  a  strong  desire  to 
recollect  a  song  which  he  had  heard  in  his  infancy, 
and  the  attempt  proving  abortive,  sought  to  stimulate 
his  memory  with  more  glasses  of  punch,  which 
appeared  to  have  quite  a  contrary  effect;  for,  from 
forgetting  the  words  of  the  song,  he  began  to  forget 
how  to  articulate  any  words  at  all;  and  finally,  after 
rising  to  his  legs  to  address  the  company  in  an 
eloquent  speech,  he  fell  into  the  barrow,  and  fast 
asleep,  simultaneously. 

The  basket  having  been  repacked,  and  it  being 
found  perfectly  impossible  to  awaken  Mr.  Pickwick 
from  his  torpor,  some  discussion  took  place  whether 
it  would  be  better  for  Mr.  Weller  to  wheel  his  master 
back  again.,  or  to  leave  him  where  he  was,  until  they 
should  all  be  ready  to  return.  The  latter  course  was 
at  length  decided  on;  and  as  the  further  expedition 
was  not  to  exceed  an  hour's  duration,  and  as  Mr. 
Weller  begged  very  hard  to  be  one  of  the  party,  it  was 
determined  to  leave  Mr.  Pickwick  asleep  in  the  bar- 
row, and  to  call  for  him  on  their  return.  So  away  they 
went,  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick  snoring  most  comfortably 
in  the  shade. 

That  Mr.  Pickwick  would  have  continued  to  snore 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          339 

in  the  shade  until  his  friends  came  back,  or,  in  default 
thereof,  until  the  shades  of  evening  had  fallen  on  the 
landscape,  there  appears  no  reasonable  cause  to  doubt ; 
always  supposing  that  he  had  been  suffered  to  remain 
there  in  peace.  But  he  was  not  suffered  to  remain 
there  in  peace.  And  this  was  what  prevented  him. 

Captain  Boldwig  was  a  little  fierce  man  in  a  stiff 
black  neckerchief  and  blue  surtout,  who,  when  he  did 
condescend  to  walk  about  his  property,  did  it  in  com- 
pany with  a  thick  rattan  stick  with  a  brass  ferrule,  and 
a  gardener  and  sub-gardener  with  meek  faces,  to  whom 
(the  gardeners,  not  the  stick)  Captain  Boldwig  gave 
his  orders  with  all  due  grandeur  and  ferocity:  for 
Captain  Boldwig's  wife's  sister  had  married  a  Mar- 
quis, and  the  Captain's  house  was  a  villa,  and  his  land 
'grounds/  and  it  was  all  very  high,  and  mighty,  and 
great. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  been  asleep  half  an  hour 
when  little  Captain  Boldwig,  followed  by  the  two 
gardeners,  came  striding  along  as  fast  as  his  size  and 
importance  would  let  him ;  and  when  he  came  near  the 
oak  tree,  Captain  Boldwig  paused,  and  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  looked  at  the  prospect  as  if  he  thought  the 
prospect  ought  to  be  highly  gratified  at  having  him 
to  take  notice  of  it ;  and  then  he  struck  the  ground  em- 
phatically with  his  stick,  and  summoned  the  head- 
gardener. 

'Hunt,'  said  Captain  Boldwig. 

'Yes,  sir,'  said  the  gardener. 

'Roll  this  place  to-morrow  morning — do  you  hear, 
Hunt?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'And  remind  me  to  have  a  board  done  about  tres- 
passers, and  spring  guns,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  to 
keep  the  common  people  out.  Do  you  hear  Hunt; 
do  you  hear?' 


340  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  '11  not  forget  it,  sir.' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  the  other  man,  advanc- 
ing, with  his  hand  to  his  hat. 

'Well,  Wilkins,  what 's  the  matter  with  you?'  said 
Captain  Boldwig. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir — but  I  think  there  have  been 
trespassers  here  to-day.' 

'Ha !'  said  the  Captain,  scowling  around  him. 

'Yes,  sir — they  have  been  dining  here,  I  think,  sir.' 

'Why,  confound  their  audacity,  so  they  have,'  said 
Captain  Boldwig,  as  the  crumbs  and  fragments  that 
were  strewn  upon  the  grass  met  his  eye.  'They  have 
actually  been  devouring  their  food  here.  I  wish  I  had 
the  vagabonds  here!'  said  the  Captain,  clenching  the 
thick  stick. 

'I  wish  I  had  the  vagabonds  here !'  said  the  Captain, 
wrathfully. 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  Wilkins,  'but— 

'But  what?  Eh?'  roared  the  Captain;  and  follow- 
ing the  timid  glance  of  Wilkins,  his  eyes  encountered 
the  wheelbarrow  and  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Who  are  you,  you  rascal?'  said  the  Captain,  admin- 
istering several  pokes  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  body  with 
the  thick  stick.  'What 's  your  name  ?' 

'Cold  punch,'  murmured  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  sunk 
to  sleep  again. 

'What?'  demanded  Captain  Boldwig. 

No  reply. 

'What  did  he  say  his  name  was?'  asked  the  Captain. 

'Punch,  I  think,  sir,'  replied  Wilkins. 

'That 's  his  impudence,  that 's  his  confounded  im- 
pudence,' said  Captain  Boldwig.  'He  's  only  feign- 
ing to  be  asleep  now,'  said  the  Captain,  in  a  high 
passion.  'He 's  drunk;  he's  a  drunken  plebeian. 
Wheel  him  away,  Wilkins,  wheel  him  away  directly.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          341 

'Where  shall  I  wheel  him  to,  sir?'  inquired  Wilkins, 
with  great  timidity. 

'Wheel  him  to  the  Devil,'  replied  Captain  Boldwig. 

''Very  well,  sir,'  said  Wilkins. 
;  'Stay,'  said  the  Captain. 

Wilkins  stopped  accordingly. 

'Wheel  him,'  said  the  Captain,  'wheel  him  to  the 
Pound ;  and  let  us  see  whether  he  calls  himself  Punch 
when  he  comes  to  himself.  He  shall  not  bully  me,  he 
shall  not  bully  me.  Wheel  him  away.' 

Away  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wheeled  in  compliance 
with  this  imperious  mandate;  and  the  great  Captain 
Boldwig,  swelling  with  indignation,  proceeded  on  his 
walk. 

Inexpressible  was  the  astonishment  of  the  little 
party  when  they  returned,  to  find  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
had  disappeared,  and  taken  the  wheelbarrow  with 
him.  It  was  the  most  mysterious  and  unaccountable 
thing  that  was  ever  heard  of.  For  a  lame  man  to  have 
got  upon  his  legs  without  any  previous  notice,  and 
walked  off,  would  have  been  most  extraordinary;  but 
when  it  came  to  his  wheeling  a  heavy  barrow  before 
him,  by  way  of  amusement,  it  grew  positively  mirac- 
ulous. They  searched  every  nook  and  corner  round, 
together  and  separately;  they  shouted,  whistled, 
laughed,  called — and  all  with  the  same  result.  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  not  to  be  found.  After  some  hours 
of  fruitless  search,  they  arrived  at  the  unwelcome  con- 
clusion that  they  must  go  home  without  him. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  wheeled  to  the 
Pound,  and  safely  deposited  therein,  fast  asleep  in  the 
wheelbarrow,  to  the  immeasurable  delight  and  satis- 
faction, not  only  of  all  the  boys  in  the  village,  but 
three-fourths  of  the  whole  population,  who  had  gath- 
ered round,  in  expectation  of  his  waking.  If  their 


342  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

most  intense  gratification  had  been  excited  by  seeing 
him  wheeled  in,  how  many  hundredfold  was  their  joy 
increased  when,  after  a  few  indistinct  cries  of  'Sam!' 
he  sat  up  in  the  barrow,  and  gazed  with  indescribable 
astonishment  on  the  faces  before  him. 

A  general  shout  was  of  course  the  signal  of  his 
having  woke  up;  and  his  involuntary  inquiry  of 
'What 's  the  matter?'  occasioned  another,  louder  than 
the  first,  if  possible. 

'Here  's  a  game  1'  roared  the  populace. 

'Where  am  I  ?'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'In  the  Pound,'  replied  the  mob. 

'How  came  I  here?  What  was  I  doing?  Where 
was  I  brought  from?' 

'Boldwig!     Captain  Boldwig!'  was  the  only  reply. 

'Let  me  out,'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Where  's  my 
servant?  Where  are  my  friends?' 

'You  an't  got  no  friends.  Hurrah!'  Then  there 
came  a  turnip,  then  a  potato,  and  then  an  egg:  with 
a  few  other  little  tokens  of  the  playful  disposition  of 
the  many-headed. 

How  long  this  scene  might  have  lasted,  or  how  much 
Mr.  Pickwick  might  have  suffered,  no  one  can  tell, 
had  not  a  carriage,  which  was  driving  swiftly  by,  sud- 
denly pulled  up,  from  whence  there  descended  old 
War  die  and  Sam  Weller,  the  former  of  whom,  in  far 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it,  if  not  to  read  it,  had 
made  his  way  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  side,  and  placed  him 
in  the  vehicle,  just  as  the  latter  had  concluded  the 
third  and  last  round  of  a  single  combat  with  the  town- 
beadle. 

'Run  to  the  Justice's !'  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

'Ah,  run  avay,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  jumping  up  on  the 
box.  'Give  my  compliments — Mr.  Veller's  compli- 
ments— to  the  Justice,  and  tell  him  I  Ve  spiled  his 
beadle,  and  that,  if  he  '11  svear  in  a  new  'un,  I  '11  come 


MR.    PICKWICK    IN    THE    POUND. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  343 

back  a  gin  to-morrow  and  spile  him.  Drive  on,  old 
feller.' 

'I  '11  give  directions  for  the  commencement  of  an 
action  for  false  imprisonment  against  this  Captain 
Boldwig,  directly  I  get  to  London,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, as  soon  as  the  carriage  turned  out  of  the  town. 

'We  were  trespassing,  it  seems,'  said  Wardle. 

'I  don't  care,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  '11  bring  the 
action.' 

'Xo,  you  won't/  said  Wardle. 

'I  will,  by—  '  but  as  there  was  a  humorous  ex- 
pression in  Wardle's  face,  Mr.  Pickwick  checked  him- 
self, and  said,  'Why  not  ?' 

'Because,'  said  old  Wardle,  half -bursting  with 
laughter,  'because  they  might  turn  round  on  some  of 
us,  and  say  we  had  taken  too  much  cold  punch.' 

Do  what  he  would,  a  smile  would  come  into  Mr. 
Pickwick's  face ;  the  smile  extended  into  a  laugh ;  the 
laugh  into  a  roar;  the  roar  became  general.  So,  to 
keep  up  their  good  humour,  they  stopped  at  the  first 
roadside  tavern  they  came  to,  and  ordered  a  glass  of 
brandy-and-water  all  round,  with  a  magnum  of  extra 
strength  for  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

CHAPTER  XX 

SHOWING  HOW  DODSON  AND  FOGG  WERE  MEN  OF  BUSI- 
NESS, AND  THEIR  CLERKS  MEN  OF  PLEASURE;  AND 
HOW  AN  AFFECTING  INTERVIEW  TOOK  PLACE  BE- 
TWEEN MR.  WELLER  AND  HIS  LONG-LOST  PARENT; 
SHOWING  ALSO  WHAT  CHOICE  SPIRITS  ASSEMBLED  AT 
THE  MAGPIE  AND  STUMP,  AND  WHAT  A  CAPITAL 
CHAPTER  THE  NEXT  ONE  WILL  BE 

[N  the  ground-floor  front  of  a  dingy  house,  at  the 
rery  furthest  end  of  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill,  sat 


344  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  four  clerks  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  two  of 
his  Majesty's  Attorneys  of  the  Courts  of  King's 
Bench  and  Common  Pleas  at  Westminster,  and  solic- 
itors of  the  High  Court  of  Chancery:  the  aforesaid 
clerks  catching  as  favourable  glimpses  of  Heaven's 
light  and  Heaven's  sun,  in  the  course  of  their  daily 
labours,  as  a  man  might  hope  to  do,  were  he  placed  at 
the  bottom  of  a  reasonably  deep  well ;  and  without  the 
opportunity  of  perceiving  the  stars  in  the  day-time, 
which  the  latter  secluded  situation  affords. 

The  clerks'  office  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  was 
a  dark,  mouldy,  earthy-smelling  room,  with  a  high 
wainscoted  partition  to  screen  the  clerks  from  the 
vulgar  gaze:  a  couple  of  old  wooden  chairs:  a  very 
loud-ticking  clock:  an  almanack,  an  umbrella-stand, 
a  row  of  hat-pegs,  and  a  few  shelves,  on  which  were 
deposited  several  ticketed  bundles  of  dirty  papers, 
some  old  deal  boxes  with  paper  labels,  and  sundry 
decayed  stone  ink  bottles  of  various  shapes  and  sizes. 
There  was  a  glass  door  leading  into  the  passage  which 
formed  the  entrance  to  the  court,  and  on  the  outer  side 
of  this  glass  door,  Mr.  Pickwick,  closely  followed  by 
Sam  Weller,  presented  himself  on  the  Friday  morn- 
ing succeeding  the  occurrence,  of  which  a  faithful  nar- 
ration is  given  in  the  last  chapter. 

'Come  in,  can't  you!'  cried  a  voice  from  behind  the 
partition,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  gentle  tap  at  the 
door.  And  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  entered  accord- 
ingly. 

'Mr.  Dodson  or  Mr.  Fogg  at  home,  sir?'  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick,  gently,  advancing,  hat  in  hand,  towards 
the  partition. 

'Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  partic- 
ularly engaged,'  replied  the  voice;  and  at  the  same 
time  the  head  to  which  the  voice  belonged,  with  a  pen 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  345 

behind  its  ear,  looked  over  the  partition,  and  at  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

It  was  a  ragged  head,  the  sandy  hair  of  which, 
scrupulously  parted  on  one  side,  and  flattened  down 
with  pomatum,  was  twisted  into  little  semi-circular 
tails  round  a  flat  face  ornamented  with  a  pair  of 
small  eyes,  and  garnished  with  a  very  dirty  shirt  collar, 
and  a  rusty  black  stock. 

'Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  par- 
ticularly engaged,'  said  the  man  to  whom  the  head 
belonged. 

'When  will  Mr.  Dodson  be  back,  sir?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Can't  say.' 

'Will  it  be  long  before  Mr.  Fogg  is  disengaged, 
sir?' 

'Don't  know.' 

Here  the  man  proceeded  to  mend  his  pen  with  great 
deliberation,  while  another  clerk,  who  was  mixing  a 
Seidlitz  powder,  under  cover  of  the  lid  of  his  desk, 
laughed  approvingly. 

'I  think  I  '11  wait/  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  There  was 
no  reply;  so  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  unbidden,  and 
listened  to  the  loud  ticking  of  the  clock  and  the  mur- 
mured conversation  of  the  clerks. 

'That  was  a  game,  wasn't  it?'  said  one  of  the  gentle- 
men, in  a  brown  coat  and  brass  buttons,  inky  drabs, 
and  bluchers,  at  the  conclusion  of  some  inaudible  rela- 
tion of  his  previous  evening's  adventures. 

'Devilish  good — devilish  good,'  said  the  Seidlitz- 
powder  man. 

'Tom  Cummins  was  in  the  chair,'  said  the  man  with 
the  brown  coat.  'It  was  half -past  four  when  I  got  to 
Somers  Town,  and  then  I  was  so  uncommon  lushey, 
that  I  couldn't  find  the  place  where  the  latch-key  went 


346  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

in,  and  was  obliged  to  knock  up  the  old  'ooman. 
say,  I  wonder  what  old  Fogg  'ud  say,  if  he  knew  it  ?     I 
should  get  the  sack,  I  s'pose — eh?' 

At  this  humorous  notion,  all  the  clerks  laughed  in 
concert. 

'There  was  such  a  game  with  Fogg  here,  this 
mornin','  said  the  man  in  the  brown  coat,  'while  Jack 
was  upstairs  sorting  the  papers,  and  you  two  were 
gone  to  the  stamp-office.  Fogg  was  down  here,  open- 
ing the  letters,  when  that  chap  as  we  issued  the  writ 
against  at  Camberwell,  you  know,  came  in — what 's 
his  name  again  ?' 

'Ramsey,'  said  the  clerk  who  had  spoken  to  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Ah,  Ramsey — a  precious  seedy-looking  customer. 
"Well,  sir,"  says  old  Fogg,  looking  at  him  very  fierce 
— you  know  his  way — "well,  sir,  have  you  come  to 
settle?"  "Yes,  I  have,  sir,"  said  Ramsey,  putting  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and  bringing  out  the  money, 
"the  debt 's  two  pound  ten,  and  the  costs  three  pound 
five,  and  here  it  is,  sir" ;  and  he  sighed  like  bricks,  as  he 
lugged  out  the  money,  done  up  in  a  bit  of  blotting- 
paper.  Old  Fogg  looked  first  at  the  money,  and 
then  at  him,  and  then  he  coughed  in  his  rum  way,  so 
that  I  knew  something  was  coming.  "You  don't 
know  there  's  a  declaration  filed,  which  increases  the 
costs  materially,  I  suppose?"  said  Fogg.  "You  don't 
say  that,  sir,"  said  Ramsey,  starting  back;  "the  time 
was  only  out  last  night,  sir."  "I  do  say  it,  though," 
said  Fogg,  "my  clerk  "s  just  gone  to  file  it.  Hasn't 
Mr.  Jackson  gone  to  file  that  declaration  in  Bullman 
and  Ramsey,  Mr.  Wicks?"  Of  course  I  said  yes, 
and  then  Fogg  coughed  again,  and  looked  at  Ramsey. 
"My  Godl"  said  Ramsey;  "and  here  have  I  nearly 
driven  myself  mad,  scraping  this  money  together, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  347 

and  all  to  no  purpose."  "None  at  all,"  said  Fogg, 
coolly;  "so  you  had  better  go  back  and  scrape  some 
more  together,  and  bring  it  here  in  time."  "I  can't 
get  it,  by  God!"  said  Ramsey,  striking  the  desk  with 
his  fist.  "Don't  bully  me,  sir,"  said  Fogg,  getting 
into  a  passion  on  purpose.  "I  am  not  bullying  you, 
sir,"  said  Ramsey.  "You  are,"  said  Fogg;  "get "out. 
sir ;  get  out  of  this  office,  sir,  and  come  back,  sir,  when 
you  know  how  to  behave  yourself."  Well,  Ramsey 
tried  to  speak,  but  Fogg  wouldn't  let  him,  so  he  put 
the  money  in  his  pocket,  and  sneaked  out.  The  door 
was  scarcely  shut,  wrhen  old  Fogg  turned  round  to 
me,  with  a  sweet  smile  on  his  face,  and  drew  the  decla- 
ration out  of  his  coat  pocket.  "Here,  Wicks,"  says 
Fogg,  "take  a  cab,  and  go  down  to  the  Temple  as 
quick  as  you  can,  and  file  that.  The  costs  are  quite 
safe,  for  he  's  a  steady  man  with  a  large  family,  at 
a  salary  of  five-and-twenty  shillings  a  week,  and  if 
he  gives  us  a  warrant  of  attorney,  as  he  must  in  the 
end,  I  know  his  employers  will  see  it  paid;  so  we  may 
as  well  get  all  we  can  out  of  him,  Mr.  Wicks ;  it 's  a 
Christian  act  to  do  it,  Mr.  Wicks,  for  with  his  large 
family  and  small  income,  he  '11  be  all  the  better  for  a 
good  lesson  against  getting  into  debt, — won't  he,  Mr. 
Wicks,  won't  he?" — and  he  smiled  so  good-naturedly 
as  he  went  away,  that  it  was  delightful  to  see  him. 
He  is  a  capital  man  of  business,'  said  Wicks,  in  a 
tone  of  deepest  admiration,  'capital,  isn't  he?' 

The  other  three  cordially  subscribed  to  this  opinion, 
and  the  anecdote  afforded  the  most  unlimited  satisfac- 
tion. 

'Nice  men  these  here,  sir,'  whispered  Mr.  Weller  to 
his  master;  'wery  nice  notion  of  fun  they  has,  sir.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent,  and  coughed  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  young  gentlemen  behind  the  par- 


348  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tition,  who,  having  now  relaxed  their  minds  by  a  little 
conversation  among  themselves,  condescended  to  take 
some  notice  of  the  stranger. 

'I  wonder  whether  Fogg's  disengaged  now?'  said 
Jackson. 

'I  '11  see,'  said  Wicks,  dismounting  leisurely  from 
his  stool.  'What  name  shall  I  tell  Mr.  Fogg?' 

'Pickwick,'  replied  the  illustrious  subject  of  these 
memoirs. 

Mr.  Jackson  departed  upstairs  on  his  errand,  and 
immediately  returned  with  a  message  that  Mr.  Fogg 
would  see  Mr.  Pickwick  in  five  minutes;  and  having 
delivered  it,  returned  again  to  his  desk. 

'What  did  he  say  his  name  was?'  whispered  Wicks. 

'Pickwick,'  replied  Jackson ;  'it 's  the  defendant  in 
Bardell  and  Pickwick.' 

A  sudden  scraping  of  feet,  mingled  with  the  sound 
of  suppressed  laughter,  was  heard  from  behind  the 
partition. 

'They  're  a  twiggin'  of  you,  sir,'  whispered  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Twigging  of  me,  Sam!'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick; 
'what  do  you  mean  by  twigging  me?' 

Mr.  Weller  replied  by  pointing  with  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder,  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  on  looking  up,  be- 
came sensible  of  the  pleasing  fact,  that  all  the  four 
clerks,  with  countenances  expressive  of  the  utmost 
amusement,  and  with  their  heads  thrust  over  the 
wooden  screen,  were  minutely  inspecting  the  figure 
and  general  appearance  of  the  supposed  trifler  with 
female  hearts,  and  disturber  of  female  happiness. 
On  his  looking  up,  the  row  of  heads  suddenly  disap- 
peared, and  the  sound  of  pens  travelling  at  a  furious 
rate  over  paper,  immediately  succeeded. 

A  sudden  ring  at  the  bell  which  hung  in  the  office, 
summoned  Mr.  Jackson  to  the  apartment  of  Fogg, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  349 

from  whence  he  came  back  to  say  that  he  (Fogg)  was 
ready  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick  if  he  would  step  upstairs. 

Upstairs  Mr.  Pickwick  did  step  accordingly,  leav- 
ing Sam  Weller  below.  The  room  door  of  the  one- 
pair  back,  bore  inscribed  in  legible  characters  the  im- 
posing words  'Mr.  Fogg' ;  and,  having  tapped  thereat, 
and  been  desired  to  come  in,  Jackson  ushered  Mr. 
Pickwick  into  the  presence. 

'Is  Mr.  Dodson  in?'  inquired  Mr.  Fogg. 

'Just  come  in,  sir,'  replied  Jackson. 

'Ask  him  to  step  here.' 

'Yes,  sir.'     Exit  Jackson. 

'Take  a  seat,  sir,'  said  Fogg;  'there  is  the  paper,  sir; 
my  partner  will  be  here  directly,  and  we  can  converse 
about  this  matter,  sir.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  a  seat  and  the  paper,  but,  instead 
of  reading  the  latter,  peeped  over  the  top  of  it,  and 
took  a  survey  of  the  man  of  business,  who  was  an 
elderly,  pimply-faced,  vegetable-diet  sort  of  man,  in 
a  black  coat,  dark  mixture  trousers,  and  small  black 
gaiters :  a  kind  of  being  who  seemed  to  be  an  essential 
part  of  the  desk  at  which  he  was  writing,  and  to  have 
as  much  thought  or  sentiment. 

After  a  few  minutes'  silence,  Mr.  Dodson,  a  plump, 
portly,  stern-looking  man,  with  a  loud  voice,  appeared ; 
and  the  conversation  commenced. 

'This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Fogg. 

'Ah!  You  are  the  defendant,  sir,  in  Bardell  and 
Pickwick?'  said  Dodson. 

'I  am,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Well,  sir,'  said  Dodson,  'and  what  do  you  propose?' 

'Ah!'  said  Fogg,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his 
trousers'  pockets,  and  throwing  himself  back  in  his 
chair,  'what  do  you  propose,  Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'Hush,  Fogg,'  said  Dodson,  'let  me  hear  what  Mr. 
Pickwick  has  to  say.' 


350  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  came,  gentlemen/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gazing 
placidly  on  the  two  partners,  'I  came  here,  gentlemen, 
to  express  the  surprise  with  which  I  received  your 
letter  of  the  other  day,  and  to  inquire  what  grounds 
of  action  you  can  have  against  me.' 

'Grounds  of — '  Fogg  had  ejaculated  thus  much, 
when  he  was  stopped  by  Dodson. 

'Mr.  Fogg,'  said  Dodson,  'I  am  going  to  speak.' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Dodson,'  said  Fogg. 

'For  the  grounds  of  action,  sir,'  continued  Dodson, 
with  moral  elevation  in  his  air,  'you  will  consult  your 
own  conscience  and  your  own  feelings.  We,  sir,  we 
are  guided  entirely  by  the  statement  of  our  client. 
That  statement,  sir,  may  be  true,  or  it  may  be  false; 
it  may  be  credible,  or  it  may  be  incredible;  but,  if  it 
be  true,  and  if  it  be  credible,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say, 
sir,  that  our  grounds  of  action,  sir,  are  strong,  and 
not  to  be  shaken.  You  may  be  an  unfortunate  man, 
sir,  or  you  may  be  a  designing  one;  but  if  I  were 
called  upon,  as  a  juryman  upon  my  oath,  sir,  to  ex- 
press an  opinion  of  your  conduct,  sir,  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  assert  that  I  should  have  but  one  opinion  about 
it.'  Here  Dodson  drew  himself  up,  with  an  air  of 
offended  virtue,  and  looked  at  Fogg,  who  thrust  his 
hands  further  in  his  pockets,  and,  nodding  his  head 
sagely,  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  fullest  concurrence, 
'Most  certainty.' 

'Well,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable 
pain  depicted  on  his  countenance,  'you  will  permit  me 
to  assure  you,  that  I  am  a  most  unfortunate  man,  so 
far  as  this  case  is  concerned.' 

'I  hope  you  are,  sir,'  replied  Dodson;  'I  trust  you 
may  be,  sir.  If  you  are  really  innocent  of  what  is 
laid  to  your  charge,  you  are  mr>re  unfortunate  than  I 
had  believed  any  man  could  possibly  be.  What  do 
you  say,  Mr.  Fogg?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  351 

'I  say  precisely  what  you  say,'  replied  Fogg,  with 
a  smile  of  incredulity. 

'The  writ,  sir,  which  commences  the  action,'  con- 
tinued Dodson,  'was  issued  regularly.  Mr.  Fogg, 
where  is  the  prcccipe  book  ?' 

'Here  it  is,'  said  Fogg,  handing  over  a  square  book, 
with  a  parchment  cover. 

'Here  is  the  entry,'  resumed  Dodson.  *  "Middle- 
sex, Capias  Martha  Bardell,,  widow ,  v.  Samuel  Pick- 
wick. Damages,  £1500.  Dodson  and  Fogg  for  the 
plaintiff,  Aug.  28,  1830."  All  regular,  sir;  per- 
fectly.' Dodson  coughed  and  looked  at  Fogg,  who 
said  'Perfectly,'  also.  And  then  they  both  looked  at 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  am  to  understand,  then,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that 
it  really  is  your  intention  to  proceed  with  this  ac- 
tion?' 

'Understand,  sir?  That  you  certainly  may,'  replied 
Dodson,  with  something  as  near  a  smile  as  his  im- 
portance would  allow. 

'And  that  the  damages  are  actually  laid  at  fifteen 
hundred  pounds  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'To  which  understanding  you  may  add  my  as- 
surance, that  if  we  could  have  prevailed  upon  our 
client,  they  would  have  been  laid  at  treble  the  amount, 
sir,'  replied  Dodson. 

'I  believe  Mrs.  Bardell  specially  said,  however,'  ob- 
served Fogg,  glancing  at  Dodson,  'that  she  would  not 
compromise  for  a  farthing  less.' 

'Unquestionably,'  replied  Dodson,  sternly.  For 
the  action  was  only  just  begun;  and  it  wouldn't  have 
done  to  let  Mr.  Pickwick  compromise  it  then,  even  if 
he  had  been  so  disposed. 

'As  you  offer  no  terms,  sir,'  said  Dodson,  display- 
ing a  slip  of  parchment  in  his  right  hand,  and  affec- 
tionately pressing  a  paper  copy  of  it,  on  Mr.  Pickwick 


352  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  his  left,  'I  had  better  serve  you  with  a  copy  of 
this  writ,  sir.  Here  is  the  original,  sir.' 

'Very  well,  gentlemen,  very  well,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, rising  in  person  and  wrath  at  the  same  time; 
'you  shall  hear  from  my  solicitor,  gentlemen.' 

'We  shall  be  veiy  happy  to  do  so,'  said  Fogg,  rub- 
bing his  hands. 

'Very,'  said  Dodson,  opening  the  door. 

'And  before  I  go,  gentlemen,'  said  the  excited  Mr. 
Pickwick,  turning  round  on  the  landing,  'permit  me 
to  say,  that  of  all  the  disgraceful  and  rascally  pro- 
ceedings— ' 

'Stay,  sir,  stay,'  interposed  Dodson,  with  great  po- 
liteness. 'Mr.  Jackson !  Mr.  Wicks !' 

'Sir,'  said  the  two  clerks,  appearing  at  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs. 

'I  merely  want  you  to  hear  what  this  gentleman 
says,'  replied  Dodson.  'Pray,  go  on,  sir — disgraceful 
and  rascally  proceedings,  I  think  you  said.' 

'I  did,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thoroughly  roused.  'I 
said,  sir,  that  of  all  the  disgraceful  and  rascally  pro- 
ceedings that  ever  were  attempted,  this  is  the  most 
so.  I  repeat  it,  sir.' 

'You  hear  that,  Mr.  Wicks?'  said  Dodson. 

'You  won't  forget  these  expressions,  Mr.  Jackson?' 
said  Fogg. 

'Perhaps  you  would  like  to  call  us  swindlers,  sir,' 
said  Dodson.  'Pray  do,  sir,  if  you  feel  disposed ;  now 
pray  do,  sir.' 

'I  do,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'You  are  swindlers.' 

'Very  good,'  said  Dodson.  'You  can  hear  down 
there,  I  hope,  Mr.  Wicks?' 

'Oh  yes,  sir,'  said  Wicks. 

'You  had  better  come  up  a  step  or  two  higher,  if 
you  can't,'  added  Mr.  Fogg.  'Go  on,  sir;  do  go  on. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  353 

You  had  better  call  us  thieves,  sir;  or  perhaps  you 
would  like  to  assault  one  of  us.  Pray  do  it,  sir,  if 
you  would;  we  will  not  make  the  smallest  resistance. 
Pray  do  it,  sir.' 

As  Fogg  put  himself  very  temptingly  within  the 
reach  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  clenched  fist,  there  is  little 
doubt  that  that  gentleman  would  have  complied  with 
his  earnest  entreaty,  but  for  the  interposition  of  Sam, 
who,  hearing  the  dispute,  emerged  from  the  office, 
mounted  the  stairs,  and  seized  his  master  by  the  arm. 

'You  just  come  avay,'  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Battle- 
dore and  shuttlecock  's  a  wery  good  game,  vhen  you 
an't  the  shuttlecock  and  two  lawyers  the  battledores, 
in  which  case  it  gets  too  excitin'  to  be  pleasant.  Come 
avay,  sir.  If  you  want  to  ease  your  mind  by  blowing 
up  somebody,  come  out  into  the  court  and  blow  up  me ; 
but  it 's  rayther  too  expensive  work  to  be  carried  on 
here.' 

And  without  the  slightest  ceremony,  Mr.  Weller 
hauled  his  master  down  the  stairs,  and  down  the  court, 
and  having  safely  deposited  him  in  Cornhill,  fell  be- 
hind, prepared  to  follow  whithersoever  he  should  lead. 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked  on  abstractedly,  crossed  op- 
posite the  Mansion  House,  and  bent  his  steps  up 
Cheapside.  Sam  began  to  wonder  where  they  were 
going,  when  his  master  turned  round,  and  said — 

'Sam,  I  will  go  immediately  to  Mr.  Perker's.' 

'That 's  just  exactly  the  wery  place  vere  you  ought 
to  have  gone  last  night,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  think  it  is,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  know  it  is,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Well,  well,  Sam,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'we  will 
go  there  at  once,  but  first,  as  I  have  been  rather  ruf- 
fled, I  should  like  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water  warm, 
Sam.  Where  can  I  have  it,  Sam?' 


354  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Weller's  knowledge  of  London  was  extensive 
and  peculiar.  He  replied,  without  the  slightest  con- 
sideration— 

'Second  court  on  the  right-hand  side — last  house 
but  vun  on  the  same  side  the  vay — take  the  box  as 
stands  in  the  first  fire-place,  'cos  there  an't  no  leg  in 
the  middle  o'  the  table,  which  all  the  others  has,  and 
it 's  wery  inconwenient/ 

Mr.  Pickwick  observed  his  valet's  directions  im- 
plicitly, and  bidding  Sam  follow  him,  entered  the 
tavern  he  had  pointed  out,  where  the  hot  brandy-and- 
water  was  speedily  placed  before  him;  while  Mr. 
Weller,  seated  at  a  respectful  distance,  though  at  the 
same  table  with  his  master,  was  accommodated  with  a 
pint  of  porter. 

The  room  was  one  of  a  very  homely  description, 
and  was  apparently  under  the  especial  patronage  of 
stage  coachmen:  for  several  gentlemen,  who  had  all 
the  appearance  of  belonging  to  that  learned  profes- 
sion, were  drinking  and  smoking  in  the  different 
boxes.  Among  the  number  was  one  stout,  red-faced, 
elderly  man  in  particular,  seated  in  an  opposite  box, 
who  attracted  Mr.  Pickwick's  attention.  The  stout 
man  was  smoking  with  great  vehemence,  but  between 
every  half-dozen  puffs,  he  took  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  and  looked  first  at  Mr.  Weller  and  then  at 
Mr.  Pickwick.  Then,  he  would  bury  in  a  quart  pot 
as  much  of  his  countenance  as  the  dimensions  of  the 
quart  pot  admitted  of  its  receiving,  and  take  another 
look  at  Sam  and  Mr.  Pickwick.  Then  he  would  take 
another  half-dozen  puffs  with  an  air  of  profound 
meditation  and  look  at  them  again.  At  last  the  stout 
man,  putting  up  his  legs  on  the  seat,  and  leaning  his 
back  against  the  wall,  began  to  puff  at  his  pipe  with- 
out leaving  off  at  all,  and  to  stare  through  the  smoke 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  355 

at  the  new  comers,  as  if  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
see  the  most  he  could  of  them. 

At  first  the  evolutions  of  the  stout  man  had  escaped 
Mr.  Weller's  observation,  but  by  degrees,  as  he  saw 
Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  every  now  and  then  turning  to- 
wards him,  he  began  to  gaze  in  the  same  direction, 
at  the  same  time  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  as 
if  he  partially  recognised  the  object  before  him,  and 
wished  to  make  quite  sure  of  its  identity.  His  doubts 
were  speedily  dispelled,  however;  for  the  stout  man 
having  blown  a  thick  cloud  from  his  pipe,  a  hoarse 
voice,  like  some  strange  effort  of  ventriloquism, 
emerged  from  beneath  the  capacious  shawls  which 
muffled  his  throat  and  chest,  and  slowly  uttered  these 
sounds — 'Wy,  Sammy!' 

'Who  's  that,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Why,  I  wouldn't  ha'  believed  it,  sir,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller  with  astonished  eyes.  'It 's  the  old  'un.' 

'Old  one!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'What  old  one?' 

'My  father,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'How  are 
you,  my  ancient?'  With  which  beautiful  ebullition 
of  filial  affection,  Mr.  Weller  made  room  on  the  seat 
beside  him,  for  the  stout  man,  who  advanced  pipe  in 
mouth  and  pot  in  hand,  to  greet  him. 

'Wy,  Sammy,'  said  the  father,  'I  han't  seen  you, 
for  two  year  and  better.' 

'Nor  more  you  have,  old  codger,'  replied  the  son. 
'How  's  mother-in-law?' 

'Wy,  I  '11  tell  you  what,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
senior,  with  much  solemnity  in  his  manner;  'there 
never  was  a  nicer  woman  as  a  widder,  than  that  'ere 
second  wentur  o'  mine — a  sweet  creetur  she  was, 
Sammy;  all  I  can  say  on  her  now,  is,  that  as  she 
was  such  an  uncommon  pleasant  widder,  it 's  a  great 
pity  she  ever  changed  her  condition.  She  don't  act 
as  a  vife,  Sammy.' 


356  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Don't  she,  though?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  junior. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied 
with  a  sigh,  'I  Ve  done  it  once  too  often,  Sammy ;  I  've 
done  it  once  too  often.  Take  example  by  your  father, 
my  boy,  and  be  wery  careful  o'  widders  all  your  life, 
specially  if  they  've  kept  a  public-house,  Sammy.' 
Having  delivered  this  parental  advice  with  great 
pathos,  Mr.  Weller  senior  re-filled  his  pipe  from  a 
tin  box  he  carried  in  his  pocket,  and,  lighting  his  fresh 
pipe  from  the  ashes  of  the  old  one,  commenced  smok- 
ing at  a  great  rate. 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir/  he  said,  renewing  the 
subject,  and  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  con- 
siderable pause,  'nothin'  personal,  I  hope,  sir;  I  hope 
you  han't  got  a  widder,  sir.' 

'Not  I,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing;  and  while 
Mr.  Pickwick  laughed,  Sam  Weller  informed  his 
parent  in  a  whisper,  of  the  relation  in  which  he  stood 
towards  that  gentleman. 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir/  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior, 
taking  off  his  hat,  'I  hope  you  've  no  fault  to  find  with 
Sammy,  sir?' 

'None  whatever/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wery  glad  to  hear  it,  sir/  replied  the  old  man: 
*I  took  a  good  deal  o'  pains  with  his  eddication,  sir; 
let  him  run  in  the  streets  when  he  was  wery  young, 
and  shift  for  his-self .  It 's  the  only  way  to  make  a 
boy  sharp,  sir.' 

'Rather  a  dangerous  process,  I  should  imagine/ 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

'And  not  a  wery  sure  one,  neither/  added  Mr. 
Weller;  'I  got  reg'larly  done  the  other  day.' 

'No!'  said  his  father. 

'I  did/  said  the  son ;  and  he  proceeded  to  relate,  in 
as  few  words  as  possible,  how  he  had  fallen  a  ready 
dupe  to  the  stratagems  of  Job  Trotter. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  357 

Mr.  Weller  senior  listened  to  the  tale  with  the  most 
profound  attention,  and,  at  its  termination,  said— 

'Worn't  one  o'  these  chaps  slim  and  tall,  with  long 
hair,  and  the  gift  o'  the  gab  wery  gallopin'  ?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  quite  understand  the  last  item 
of  description,  but,  comprehending  the  first,  said 
'Yes,'  at  a  venture. 

"I"  other  's  a  black-haired  chap  in  a  mulberry  livery, 
with  a  wery  large  head  ?' 

'Yes,  yes,  he  is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam,  with 
great  earnestness. 

'Then  I  know  where  they  are,  and  that 's  all  about 
it,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  'they  're  at  Ipswich,  safe  enough, 
them  two.' 

'No!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Tact,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'and  I  '11  tell  you  how  I 
know  it.  I  work  an  Ipswich  coach  now  and  then  for 
a  friend  o'  mine.  I  worked  down  the  wery  day  arter 
the  night  as  you  caught  the  rheumatiz,  and  at  the 
Black  Boy  at  Chelmsford — the  wery  place  they  'd 
come  to — I  took  'em  up,  right  through  to  Ipswich, 
where  the  man  servant — him  in  the  mulberries — told 
me  they  was  a  goin'  to  put  up  for  a  long  time.' 

'I  '11  follow  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'we  may  as 
well  see  Ipswich  as  any  other  place.  I  '11  follow  him.' 

'You  're  quite  certain  it  was  them,  governor?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller,  junior. 

'Quite,  Sammy,  quite,'  replied  his  father,  'for  their 
appearance  is  wery  sing'ler;  besides  that  'ere,  I  won- 
dered to  see  the  gen'l'm'n  so  formiliar  with  his  serv- 
ant; and,  more  than  that,  as  they  sat  in  front,  right 
behind  the  box,  I  heerd  'em  laughing,  and  saying  how 
they  'd  done  old  Fireworks.' 

'Old  who?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Old  Fireworks,  sir;  by  which,  I  've  no  doubt,  they 
meant  you,  sir.' 


358  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

There  is  nothing  positively  vile  or  atrocious  in  the 
appellation  of  'old  Fireworks,'  but  still  it  is  by  no 
means  a  respectful  or  flattering  designation.  The 
recollection  of  all  the  wrongs  he  had  sustained  at 
Jingle's  hands  had  crowded  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  mind, 
the  moment  Mr.  Weller  began  to  speak:  it  wanted 
but  a  feather  to  turn  the  scale,  and  'old  Fireworks' 
did  it. 

'I  '11  follow  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  em- 
phatic blow  on  the  table. 

'I  shall  work  down  to  Ipswich  the  day  arter  to- 
morrow, sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller  the  elder,  'from  the 
Bull  in  Whitechapel;  and  if  you  really  mean  to  go, 
you  'd  better  go  with  me.' 

'So  we  had,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  Very  true;  I  can 
write  to  Bury,  and  tell  them  to  meet  me  at  Ipswich. 
We  will  go  with  you.  But  don't  hurry  away,  Mr. 
Weller;  won't  you  take  anything?' 

'You  're  wery  good,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  W.,  stopping 
short;  'perhaps  a  small  glass  of  brandy  to  drink  your 
health,  and  success  to  Sammy,  sir,  wouldn't  be  amiss.' 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'A  glass  of 
brandy  here!'  The  brandy  was  brought:  and  Mr. 
Weller,  after  pulling  his  hair  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
nodding  to  Sam,  jerked  it  down  his  capacious  throat 
as  if  it  had  been  a  small  thimble-full. 

'Well  done,  father,'  said  Sam,  'take  care,  old  fellow, 
or  you  '11  have  a  touch  of  your  old  complaint,  the 
gout.' 

'I  've  found  a  sov'rin  cure  for  that,  Sammy,'  said 
Mr.  Weller,  setting  down  the  glass. 

'A  sovereign  cure  for  the  gout,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
hastily  producing  his  note-book — 'what  is  it?' 

'The  gout,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'the  gout  is  a 
complaint  as  arises  from  too  much  ease  and  comfort. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  359 

If  ever  you  're  attacked  with  the  gout,  sir,  jist  you 
marry  a  widder  as  has  got  a  good  loud  woice,  with 
a  decent  notion  of  usin'  it,  and  you  '11  never  have  the 
gout  agin.  It 's  a  capital  prescription,  sir.  I  takes 
it  reg'lar,  and  I  can  warrant  it  to  drive  away  any  ill- 
ness as  is  caused  by  too  much  jollity.'  Having  im- 
parted this  valuable  secret,  Mr.  Weller  drained  his 
glass  once  more,  produced  a  laboured  wink,  sighed 
deeply,  and  slowly  retired. 

'Well,  what  do  you  think  of  what  your  father  says, 
Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

'Think,  sir!'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'why,  I  think  he  's 
the  wictim  o'  connubiality,  as  Blue  Beard's  domestic 
chaplain  said,  with  a  tear  of  pity,  ven  he  buried  him.' 

There  was  no  replying  to  this  very  apposite  con- 
clusion, and,  therefore,  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  settling 
the  reckoning,  resumed  his  walk  to  Gray's  Inn.  By 
the  time  he  reached  its  secluded  groves,  however,  eight 
o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  unbroken  stream  of  gentle- 
men in  muddy  high-lows,  soiled  white  hats,  and  rusty 
apparel,  who  were  pouring  towards  the  different 
avenues  of  egress,  warned  him  that  the  majority  of 
the  offices  had  closed  for  that  day. 

After  climbing  two  pairs  of  steep  and  dirty  stairs, 
he  found  his  anticipations  were  realised.  Mr.  Perk- 
er's  'outer  door'  was  closed ;  and  the  dead  silence  which 
followed  Mr.  Weller's  repeated  kicks  thereat,  an- 
nounced that  the  officials  had  retired  from  business 
for  the  night. 

'This  is  pleasant,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  *I 
shouldn't  lose  an  hour  in  seeing  him;  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  get  one  wink  of  sleep  to-night,  I  know,  unless 
I  have  the  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that  I  have  con- 
fided this  matter  to  a  professional  man.' 

'Here  's  an  old  'ooman  comin'  upstairs,  sir,'  replied 


360  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Weller;  "p'raps  she  knows  where  we  can  find 
somebody.  Hallo,  old  lady,  vere  's  Mr.  Perker's 
people  ?' 

'Mr.  Perker's  people,'  said  a  thin,  miserable-looking 
old  woman,  stopping  to  recover  breath  after  the  ascent 
of  the  staircase,  'Mr.  Perker's  people  's  gone,  and 
I  'm  a  goin'  to  do  the  office  out.' 

'Are  you  Mr,  Perker's  servant  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'I  am  Mr,  Perker's  laundress,'  replied  the  old 
woman. 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  half  aside  to  Sam,  'it 's 
a  curious  circumstance,  Sam,  that  they  call  the  old 
women  in  these  inns,  laundresses.  I  wonder  what 's 
that  for/ 

*  'Cos  they  has  a  mortal  awersion  to  washing  any- 
thin',  I  suppose,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  shouldn't  wonder,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking 
at  the  old  woman,  whose  appearance,  as  well  as  the 
condition  of  the  office,  which  she  had  by  this  time 
opened,  indicated  a  rooted  antipathy  to  the  applica- 
tion of  soap  and  water;  'do  you  know  where  I  can 
find  Mr.  Perker,  my  good  woman?' 

'Xo,  I  don't,'  replied  the  old  woman,  gruffly;  'he  's 
out  o'  town  now.' 

'That's  unfortunate,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'where 's 
his  clerk?  Do  you  know?' 

'Yes,  I  know  where  he  is,  but  he  won't  thank  me 
for  telling  you,'  replied  the  laundress. 

'I  have  very  particular  business  with  him,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Won't  it  do  in  the  morning?'  said  the  woman. 

'Not  so  well,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Well,'  said  the  old  woman,  'if  it  was  anything  very 
particular,  I  was  to  say  where  he  was,  so  I  suppose 
there  's  no  harm  in  telling.  If  you  just  go  to  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  361 

Magpie  and  Stump,  and  ask  at  the  bar  for  Mr. 
Lowten,  they  '11  show  you  in  to  him,  and  he  's  Mr. 
Parker's  clerk.' 

With  this  direction,  and  having  been  furthermore 
informed  that  the  hostelry  in  question  was  situated 
in  a  court,  happy  in  the  double  advantage  of  being  in 
the  vicinity  of  Clare  Market,  and  closely  approxi- 
mating to  the  back  of  New  Inn,  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Sam  descended  the  rickety  staircase  in  safety,  and 
issued  forth  in  quest  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 

This  favoured  tavern,  sacred  to  the  evening  orgies 
of  Mr.  Lowten  and  his  companions,  was  what  ordi- 
nary people  would  designate  a  public-house.  That 
the  landlord  was  a  man  of  a  money-making  turn, 
was  sufficiently  testified  by  the  fact  of  a  small  bulk- 
head beneath  the  tap-room  window,  in  size  and  shape 
not  unlike  a  sedan-chair,  being  underlet  to  a  mender 
of  shoes:  and  that  he  was  a  being  of  a  philanthropic 
mind,  was  evident  from  the  protection  he  afforded 
to  a  pieman,  who  vended  his  delicacies  without  fear 
of  interruption  on  the  very  door-step.  In  the  lower 
windows,  which  were  decorated  with  curtains  of  a 
saffron  hue,  dangled  two  or  three  printed  cards,  bear- 
ing reference  to  Devonshire  cyder  and  Dantzic  spruce, 
while  a  large  black  board,  announcing  in  white  letters 
to  an  enlightened  public  that  there  were  500,000  bar- 
rels of  double  stout  in  the  cellars  of  the  establishment, 
left  the  mind  in  a  state  of  not  unpleasing  doubt  and 
uncertainty  as  to  the  precise  direction  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  in  which  this  mighty  cavern  might  be 
supposed  to  extend.  When  we  add,  that  the  weather- 
beaten  sign-board  bore  the  half-obliterated  semblance 
of  a  magpie  intently  eyeing  a  crooked  streak  of 
brown  paint,  which  the  neighbours  had  been  taught 
from  infancy  to  consider  as  the  'stump/  we  have  said 
all  that  need  be  said  of  the  exterior  of  the  edifice. 


362  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

On  Mr.  Pickwick's  presenting  himself  at  the  bar, 
an  elderly  female  emerged  from  behind  a  screen 
therein,  and  presented  herself  before  him. 

'Is  Mr.  Lowten  here,  ma'am?'  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Yes  he  is,  sir/  replied  the  landlady.  'Here, 
Charley,  show  the  gentleman  in,  to  Mr.  Lowten.' 

'The  gen'l'm'n  can't  go  in  just  now,'  said  a  sham- 
bling pot-boy,  with  a  red  head,  '  'cos  Mr.  Lowten  's 
a  singin'  a  comic  song,  and  he  '11  put  him  out.  He  '11 
be  done  d'rectly,  sir.' 

The  red-headed  pot-boy  had  scarcely  finished 
speaking,  when  a  most  unanimous  hammering  of 
tables,  and  jingling  of  glasses,  announced  that  the 
song  had  that  instant  terminated;  and  Mr.  Pickwick, 
after  desiring  Sam  to  solace  himself  in  the  tap,  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  conducted  into  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Lowten. 

At  the  announcement  of  'gentleman  to  speak  to 
you,  sir,'  a  puffy-faced  young  man,  who  filled  the 
chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  looked  with  some  sur- 
prise in  the  direction  from  whence  the  voice  pro- 
ceeded: and  the  surprise  seemed  to  be  by  no  means 
diminished,  when  his  eyes  rested  on  an  individual 
whom  he  had  never  seen  before. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'and 
I  am  very  sorry  to  disturb  the  other  gentlemen,  too, 
but  I  come  on  very  particular  business ;  and  if  you  will 
suffer  me  to  detain  you  at  this  end  of  the  room  for 
five  minutes,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you.' 

The  puffy-faced  young  man  rose,  and  drawing  a 
chair  close  to  Mr.  Pickwick  in  an  obscure  corner  of 
the  room,  listened  attentively  to  his  tale  of  woe. 

'Ah,'  he  said,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  concluded, 
'Dodson  and  Fogg — sharp  practice  theirs — capital 
men  of  business,  Dodson  and  Fogg,  sir.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  363 


Mr.  Pickwick  admitted  the  sharp  practice  of  Dod- 
son  and  Fogg,  and  Lowten  resumed. 

'Perker  ain't  in  town,  and  he  won't  be,  neither, 
before  the  end  of  next  week;  but  if  you  want  the 
action  defended,  and  will  leave  the  copy  with  me,  I 
can  do  all  that 's  needful  till  he  comes  back/ 

'That 's  exactly  what  I  came  here  for,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  handing  over  the  document.  'If  anything 
particular  occurs,  you  can  write  to  me  at  the  post- 
office,  Ipswich.' 

'That 's  all  right,'  replied  Mr.  Perker's  clerk;  and 
then  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  wandering  curiously 
towards  the  table,  he  added,  'Will  you  join  us,  for 
half  an  hour  or  so?  We  are  capital  company  here 
to-night.  There  's  Samkin  and  Green's  managing- 
clerk,  and  Smither's  and  Price's  chancery,  and  Pim- 
kin  and  Thomas's  out  o'  door — sings  a  capital  song, 
he  does — and  Jack  Bamber,  and  ever  so  many  more. 
You  're  come  out  of  the  country,  I  suppose.  Would 
you  like  to  join  us?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  resist  so  tempting  an  op- 
portunity of  studying  human  nature.  He  suffered 
himself  to  be  led  to  the  table,  where,  after  having  been 
introduced  to  the  company  in  due  form,  he  was  ac- 
commodated with  a  seat  near  the  chairman,  and  called 
for  a  glass  of  his  favourite  beverage. 

A  profound  silence,  quite  contrary  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's expectations,  succeeded. 

'You  don't  find  this  sort  of  thing  disagreeable,  I 
hope,  sir?'  said  his  right-hand  neighbour,  a  gentleman 
in  a  checked  shirt,  and  Mosaic  studs,  with  a  cigar  in 
his  mouth. 

'Not  in  the  least,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  like  it 
very  much,  although  I  am  no  smoker  myself.' 

*I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  I  wasn't,'  interposed 


$64  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

another  gentleman  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 
'It 's  board  and  lodging  to  me,  is  smoke.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  at  the  speaker,  and  thought 
that  if  it  were  washing  too,  it  would  be  all  the  better. 

Here  there  was  another  pause.  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
a  stranger,  and  his  coming  had  evidently  cast  a  damp 
upon  the  party. 

'Mr.  Grundy  's  going  to  oblige  the  company  with 
a  song,'  said  the  chairman. 

'No  he  ain't,'  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

'Why  not?'  said  the  chairman. 

'Because  he  can't,'  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

'You  had  better  say  he  won't,'  replied  the  chairman. 

'Well,  then,  he  won't,'  retorted  Mr.  Grundy.  Mr. 
Grundy's  positive  refusal  to  gratify  the  company, 
occasioned  another  silence. 

'Won't  anybody  enliven  us?'  said  the  chairman, 
despondingly. 

'Why  don't  you  enliven  us  yourself,  Mr.  Chair- 
man?' said  a  young  man  with  a  whisker,  a  squint, 
and  an  open  shirt  collar  (dirty),  from  the  bottom  of 
the  table. 

'Hear!  hear!'  said  the  smoking  gentleman  in  the 
Mosaic  jewellery. 

'Because  I  only  know  one  song,  and  I  have  sung 
it  already,  and  it 's  a  fine  of  "glasses  round"  to  sing 
the  same  song  twice  in  a  night,'  replied  the  chairman. 

This  was  an  unanswerable  reply,  and  silence  pre- 
vailed again. 

'I  have  been  to-night,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, hoping  to  start  a  subject  which  all  the  company 
could  take  a  part  in  discussing,  'I  have  been  to-night 
in  a  place  which  you  all  know  very  well,  doubtless, 
but  which  I  have  not  been  in  before  for  some  years, 
and  know  very  little  of;  I  mean  Gray's  Inn,  gentle- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  365 

men.  Curious  little  nooks  in  a  great  place  like  Lon- 
don, these  old  Inns  are.' 

'By  Jove,'  said  the  chairman,  whispering  across 
the  table  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  'you  have  hit  upon  some- 
thing that  one  of  us,  at  least,  would  talk  upon  for 
ever.  You  '11  draw  old  Jack  Bamber  out;  he  was 
never  heard  to  talk  about  anything  else  but  the  Inns, 
and  he  has  lived  alone  in  them  till  he  's  half  crazy.' 

The  individual  to  whom  Lowten  alluded,  was  a 
little  yellow  high-shouldered  man,  whose  countenance, 
from  his  habit  of  stooping  forward  when  silent,  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  not  observed  before.  He  wondered 
though,  when  the  old  man  raised  his  shrivelled  face, 
and  bent  his  grey  eye  upon  him,  with  a  keen  inquiring 
look,  that  such  remarkable  features  could  have  escaped 
his  attention  for  a  moment.  There  was  a  fixed  grim 
smile  perpetually  on  his  countenance;  he  leant  his 
chin  on  a  long  skinny  hand,  with  nails  of  extraordi- 
nary length;  and  as  he  inclined  his  head  to  one  side, 
and  looked  keenly  out  from  beneath  his  ragged  grey 
eyebrows,  there  was  a  strange,  wild  slyness  in  his 
leer,  quite  repulsive  to  behold. 

This  was  the  figure  that  now  started  forward,  and 
burst  into  an  animated  torrent  of  words.  As  this 
chapter  has  been  a  long  one,  however,  and  as  the  old 
man  was  a  remarkable  personage,  it  will  be  more  re- 
spectful to  him,  and  more  convenient  to  us,  to  let  him 
speak  for  himself  in  a  fresh  one. 

CHAPTER  XXI 

IX  WHICH  THE  OLD  MAN  LAUNCHES  FORTH  INTO  HIS 
FAVOURITE  THEME,  AND  RELATES  A  STORY  ABOUT 
A  QUEER  CLIENT 

'AHA!'  said  the  old  man,  a  brief  description  of  whose 


366  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

manner  and  appearance  concluded  the  last  chapter, 
'Aha !  who  was  talking  about  the  Inns  ?' 

'I  was,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  'I  was  observing 
what  singular  old  places  they  are.' 

'You!3  said  the  old  man,  contemptuously,  'What  do 
you  know  of  the  time  when  young  men  shut  them- 
selves up  in  those  lonely  rooms,  and  read  and  read, 
hour  after  hour,  and  night  after  night,  till  their 
reason  wandered  beneath  their  midnight  studies;  till 
their  mental  powers  were  exhausted;  till  morning's 
light  brought  no  freshness  or  health  to  them;  and 
they  sank  beneath  the  unnatural  devotion  of  their 
youthful  energies  to  their  dry  old  books?  Coming 
down  to  a  later  time,  and  a  very  different  day,  what 
do  you  know  of  the  gradual  sinking  beneath  consump- 
tion, or  the  quick  wasting  of  fever — the  grand  results 
of  "life"  and  dissipation — which  men  have  under- 
gone in  these  same  rooms?  How  many  vain  plead- 
ers for  mercy,  do  you  think  have  turned  away  heart- 
sick from  the  lawyer's  office,  to  find  a  resting-place 
in  the  Thames,  or  a  refuge  in  the  gaol  ?  They  are  no 
ordinary  houses,  those.  There  is  not  a  panel  in  the 
old  wainscoting,  but  what,  if  it  were  endowed  with  the 
powers  of  speech  and  memory,  could  start  from  the 
wall,  and  tell  its  tale  of  horror — the  romance  of  life, 
sir,  the  romance  of  life !  Common-place  as  they  may 
seem  now,  I  tell  you  they  are  strange  old  places,  and 
I  would  rather  hear  many  a  legend  with  a  terrific 
sounding  name,  than  the  true  history  of  one  old  set  of 
chambers.' 

There  was  something  so  odd  in  the  old  man's  sudden 
energy,  and  the  subject  which  had  called  it  forth, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  prepared  with  no  observation 
in  reply;  and  the  old  man  checking  his  impetuosity, 
and  resuming  the  leer,  which  had  disappeared  during 
his  previous  excitement,  said — 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  367 

'Look  at  them  in  another  light :  their  most  common- 
place and  least  romantic.  What  fine  places  of  slow 
torture  they  are!  Think  of  the  needy  man  who  has 
spent  his  all,  beggared  himself,  and  pinched  his 
friends,  to  enter  the  profession,  which  will  never  yield 
him  a  morsel  of  bread.  The  waiting — the  hope — the 
disappointment — the  fear — the  misery — the  poverty 
—the  blight  on  his  hopes,  and  end  to  his  career — the 
suicide  perhaps,  or  the  shabby,  slipshod  drunkard. 
Am  I  not  right  about  them?'  And  the  old  man 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  leered  as  if  in  delight  at  hav- 
ing found  another  point  of  view  in  which  to  place  his 
favourite  subject. 

"^Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  the  old  man  with  great  euri- 
)  jity,  and  the  remainder  of  the  company  smiled,  and 
looked  on  in  silence. 

'Talk  of  your  German  universities,'  said  the  little 
old  man.  'Pooh,  pooh !  there  's  romance  enough  at 
home  without  going  half  a  mile  for  it;  only  people 
never  think  of  it.' 

'I  never  thought  of  the  romance  of  this  particular 
subject  before,  certainly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laugh- 
ing. 

'To  be  sure  you  didn't,'  said  the  little  old  man, 
'of  course  not.  As  a  friend  of  mine  used  to  say  to 
me,  "What  is  there  in  chambers,  in  particular?" 
"Queer  old  places,"  said  I.  "Not  at  all,"  said  he, 
"Lonely,"  said  I.  "Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  he.  He 
died  one  morning  of  apoplexy,  as  he  was  going  to 
open  his  outer  door.  Fell  with  his  head  in  his  own 
letter-box,  and  there  he  lay  for  eighteen  months. 
Everybody  thought  he  'd  gone  out  of  town.' 

'And  how  was  he  found  at  last?'  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'The  benchers  determined  to  have  his  door  broken 
open,  as  he  hadn't  paid  any  rent  for  two  years.  So 


368  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

they  did.  Forced  the  lock;  and  a  very  dusty  skel- 
eton in  a  blue  coat,  black  knee-shorts,  and  silks,  fell 
forward  in  the  arms  of  the  porter  who  opened  the 
door.  Queer,  that.  Rather,  perhaps?'  The  little 
old  man  put  his  head  more  on  one  side,  and  rubbed 
his  hands  with  unspeakable  glee. 

'I  know  another  case,'  said  the  little  old  man,  when 
his  chuckles  had  in  some  degree  subsided.  'It  oc- 
curred in  Clifford's  Inn.  Tenant  of  a  top  set — bad 
character — shut  himself  up  in  his  bed-room  closet, 
and  took  a  dose  of  arsenic.  The  steward  thought  he 
had  run  away;  opened  the  door,  and  put  a  bill  up. 
Another  man  came,  took  the  chambers,  furnished 
them,  and  went  to  live  there.  Somehow  or  other  ia 
couldn't  sleep — always  restless  and  uncomfortable) 
"Odd,"  says  he.  "I  '11  make  the  other  room  my  bed- 
chamber, and  this  my  sitting-room."  He  made  the 
change,  and  slept  very  well  at  night,  but  suddenly 
found  that,  somehow,  he  couldn't  read  in  the  evening : 
he  got  nervous  and  uncomfortable,  and  used  to  be 
always  snuffing  his  candles  and  staring  about  him. 
"I  can't  make  this  out,"  said  he,  when  he  came  home 
from  the  play  one  night,  and  was  drinking  a  glass 
of  cold  grog,  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  in  order  that 
he  mightn't  be  able  to  fancy  there  was  any  one  be- 
hind him — "I  can't  make  it  out,"  said  he;  and  just 
then  his  eyes  rested  on  the  little  closet  that  had  been 
always  locked  up,  and  a  shudder  ran  through  his 
whole  frame  from  top  to  toe.  "I  have  felt  this 
strange  feeling  before,"  said  he,  "I  cannot  help  think- 
ing there  's  something  wrong  about  that  closet."  He 
made  a  strong  effort,  plucked  up  his  courage,  shivered 
the  lock  with  a  blow  or  two  of  the  poker,  opened  the 
door,  and  there,  sure  enough,  standing  bolt  upright 
in  the  corner,  was  the  last  tenant,  with  a  little  bottle 
clasped  firmly  in  his  hand,  arid  his  face — well!'  As 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  369 

the  little  old  man  concluded,  he  looked  round  on  the 
attentive  faces  of  his  wondering  auditory  with  a  smile 
of  grim  delight. 

'What  strange  things  these  are  you  tell  us  of,  sir,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  minutely  scanning  the  old  man's 
countenance,  by  the  aid  of  his  glasses. 

'Strange!'  said  the  little  old  man.  'Nonsense;  you 
think  them  strange,  because  you  know  nothing  about 
it.  They  are  funny,  but  not  uncommon.' 

'Funny!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  involuntarily. 

'Yes,  funny,  are  they  not?'  replied  the  little  old  man, 
with  a  diabolical  leer;  and  then,  without  pausing  for 
an  answer,  he  continued — 

'I  knew  another  man — let  me  see — forty  years  ago 
now — who  took  an  old,  damp,  rotten  set  of  chambers, 
in  one  of  the  most  ancient  Inns,  that  had  been  shut 
up  and  empty  for  years  and  years  before.  There 
were  lots  of  old  women's  stories  about  the  place,  and 
it  certainly  was  very  far  from  being  a  cheerful  one; 
but  he  was  poor,  and  the  rooms  were  cheap,  and  that 
would  have  been  quite  a  sufficient  reason  for  him,  if 
they  had  been  ten  times  worse  than  they  really  were. 
He  was  obliged  to  take  some  mouldering  fixtures  that 
were  on  the  place,  and,  among  the  rest,  was  a  great 
lumbering  wooden  press  for  papers,  with  large  glass 
doors,  and  a  green  curtain  inside;  a  pretty  useless 
thing  for  him,  for  he  had  no  papers  to  put  in  it;  and 
as  to  his  clothes,  he  carried  them  about  with  him, 
and  that  wasn't  very  hard  work,  either.  Well,  he 
had  moved  in  all  his  furniture — it  wasn't  quite  a 
truck-full — and  had  sprinkled  it  about  the  room,  so 
as  to  make  the  four  chairs  look  as  much  like  a  dozen 
as  possible,  and  was  sitting  down  before  the  fire  at 
night,  drinking  the  first  glass  of  two  gallons  of 
whiskey  he  had  ordered  on  credit,  wondering  whether 
it  would  ever  be  paid  for,  and  if  so,  in  how  many 


370  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

years'  time,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  glass 
doors  of  the  wooden  press.  "Ah,"  says  he.  "If 
I  hadn't  been  obliged  to  take  that  ugly  article  at  the 
old  broker's  valuation,  I  might  have  got  something 
comfortable  for  the  money.  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is, 
old  fellow,"  he  said,  speaking  aloud  to  the  press,  hav- 
ing nothing  else  to  speak  to:  "If  it  wouldn't  cost 
more  to  break  up  your  old  carcase,  than  it  would 
ever  be  worth  afterwards,  I  'd  have  a  fire  out  of  you 
in  less  than  no  time."  He  had  hardly  spoken  the 
words  when  a  sound  resembling  a  faint  groan,  ap- 
peared to  issue  from  the  interior  of  the  case.  It 
startled  him  at  first,  but  thinking,  on  a  moment's  re- 
flection, that  it  must  be  some  young  fellow  in  the 
next  chamber,  who  had  been  dining  out,  he  put  his 
feet  on  the  fender,  and  raised  the  poker  to  stir  the 
fire.  At  that  moment,  the  sound  was  repeated:  and 
one  of  the  glass  doors  slowly  opening,  disclosed  a 
pale  and  emaciated  figure  in  soiled  and  worn  apparel, 
standing  erect  in  the  press.  The  figure  was  tall  and 
thin,  and  the  countenance  expressive  of  care  and 
anxiety;  but  there  was  something  in  the  hue  of  the 
skin,  and  gaunt  and  unearthly  appearance  of  the 
whole  form,  which  no  being  of  this  world  was  ever 
seen  to  wear.  "Who  are  you?"  said  the  new  tenant, 
turning  very  pale:  poising  the  poker  in  his  hand, 
however,  and  taking  a  very  decent  aim  at  the  counte- 
nance of  the  figure.  "Who  are  you?"  "Don't 
throw  that  poker  at  me,"  replied  the  form;  "if  you 
hurled  it  with  ever  so  sure  an  aim,  it  would  pass 
through  me,  without  resistance,  and  extend  its  force 
on  the  wood  behind.  I  am  a  spirit."  "And,  pray, 
what  do  you  want  here?"  faltered  the  tenant.  "In 
this  room,"  replied  the  apparition,  "my  worldly  ruin 
was  worked,  and  I  and  my  children  beggared.  In 
this  press,  the  papers  in  a  long,  long  suit,  which 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          371 

accumulated  for  years,  were  deposited.  In  this 
room,  when  I  had  died  of  grief,  and  long-deferred 
hope,  two  wily  harpies  divided  the  wealth  for  which 
I  had  contested  during  a  wretched  existence,  and  of 
which,  at  last,  not  one  farthing  was  left  for  my 
unhappy  descendants.  I  terrified  them  from  the 
spot,  and  since  that  day  have  prowled  by  night — the 
only  period  at  which  I  can  revisit  the  earth — about 
the  scenes  of  my  long-protracted  misery.  This 
apartment  is  mine:  leave  it  to  me."  "If  you  insist 
upon  making  your  appearance  here,"  said  the  tenant, 
who  had  had  time  to  collect  his  presence  of  mind 
during  this  prosy  statement  of  the  ghost's,  "I  shall 
give  up  possession  with  the  greatest  pleasure;  but  I 
should  like  to  ask  you  one  question,  if  you  will  allow 
me."  "Say  on,"  said  the  apparition,  sternly. 
"Well,"  said  the  tenant,  "I  don't  apply  the  observa- 
tion personally  to  you,  because  it  is  equally  applicable 
to  most  of  the  ghosts  I  ever  heard  of;  but  it  does 
appear  to  me  somewhat  inconsistent,  that  when  you 
have  an  opportunity  of  visiting  the  fairest  spots  of 
earth — for  I  suppose  space  is  nothing  to  you — you 
should  always  return  exactly  to  the  very  places  where 
you  have  been  most  miserable."  "Egad,  that 's  very 
true;  I  never  thought  of  that  before,"  said  the  ghost. 
"You  see,  sir,"  pursued  the  tenant,  "this  is  a  very 
uncomfortable  room.  From  the  appearance  of  that 
press,  I  should  be  disposed  to  say  that  it  is  not  wholly 
free  from  bugs;  and  I  really  think  you  might  find 
much  more  comfortable  quarters:  to  say  nothing  of 
the  climate  of  London,  which  is  extremely  disagree- 
ble."  "You  are  very  right,  sir,"  said  the  ghost  po- 
litely, "it  never  struck  me  till  now;  I  '11  try  change 
of  air  directly."  In  fact,  he  began  to  vanish  as  he 
spoke:  his  legs,  indeed,  had  quite  disappeared.  "And 
if,  sir,"  said  the  tenant,  calling  after  him,  "if  you 


372  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

would  have  the  goodness  to  suggest  to  the  other  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  are  now  engaged  in  haunting  old 
empty  houses,  that  they  might  be  much  more  comfort- 
able elsewhere,  you  will  confer  a  very  great  benefit 
on  society."  "I  will,"  replied  the  ghost;  "we  must 
be  dull  fellows,  very  dull  fellows,  indeed;  I  can't 
imagine  how  we  can  have  been  so  stupid."  With 
these  words,  the  spirit  disappeared ;  and  what  is 
rather  remarkable,'  added  the  old  man,  with  a  shrewd 
look  round  the  table,  'he  never  came  back  again.' 

'That  ain't  bad,  if  it 's  true,'  said  the  man  in  the 
Mosaic  studs,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar. 

'If!'  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  a  look  of  excess- 
ive contempt.  T  suppose,*  he  added,  turning  to 
Lowten,  'he  '11  say  next,  that  my  story  about  the  queer 
client  we  had,  when  I  was  in  an  attorney's  office,  is 
not  true,  either — I  shouldn't  wonder.' 

'I  shan't  venture  to  say  anything  at  all  about  it, 
seeing  that  I  never  heard  the  story,'  observed  the 
owner  of  the  Mosaic  decorations. 

'I  wish  you  would  repeat  it,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Ah,  do,'  said  Lowten,  'nobody  has  heard  it  but 
me,  and  I  have  nearly  forgotten  it.' 

The  old  man  looked  round  the  table,  and  leered 
more  horribly  than  ever,  as  if  in  triumph,  at  the  at- 
tention which  was  depicted  in  every  face.  Then  rub- 
bing his  chin  with  his  hand,  and  looking  up  to  the 
ceiling  as  if  to  recall  the  circumstances  to  his  memory, 
he  began  as  follows : — 

THE  OLD  MAN'S  TALE  ABOUT  THE  QUEER  CLIENT 

'It  matters  little,'  said  the  old  man,  *where,  or  how, 
I  picked  up  this  brief  history.  If  I  were  to  relate 
it  in  the  order  in  which  it  reached  me,  I  should  com- 
mence in  the  middle,  and  when  I  had  arrived  at  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  373 

conclusion,  go  back  for  a  beginning.  It  is  enough 
for  me  to  say  that  some  of  its  circumstances  passed 
before  my  own  eyes.  For  the  remainder  I  know 
them  to  have  happened,  and  there  are  some  persons 
yet  living,  who  will  remember  them  but  too  well. 

'In  the  Borough  High  Street,  near  Saint  George's 
Church,  and  on  the  same  side  of  the  way,  stands,  as 
most  people  know,  the  smallest  of  our  debtors' 
prisons,  the  Marshalsea.  Although  in  later  times  it 
has  been  a  very  different  place  from  the  sink  of  filth 
and  dirt  it  once  was,  even  its  improved  condition 
holds  out  but  little  temptation  to  the  extravagant,  or 
consolation  to  the  improvident.  The  condemned 
felon  has  as  good  a  yard  for  air  and  exercise  in  Xew- 
gate,  as  the  insolvent  debtor  in  the  Marshalsea 
Prison.1 

'It  may  be  my  fancy,  or  it  may  be  that  I  cannot 
separate  the  place  from  the  old  recollections  asso- 
ciated with  it,  but  this  part  of  London  I  cannot  bear. 
The  street  is  broad,  the  shops  are  spacious,  the  noise 
of  passing  vehicles,  the  footsteps  of  a  perpetual 
stream  of  people — all  the  busy  sounds  of  traffic,  re- 
sound in  it  from  morn  to  midnight,  but  the  streets 
around  are  mean  and  close;  poverty  and  debauchery 
lie  festering  in  the  crowded  alleys;  want  and  misfor- 
tune are  pent  up  in  the  narrow  prison;  an  air  of 
gloom  and  dreariness  seems,  in  my  eyes  at  least,  to 
hang  about  the  scene,  and  to  impart  to  it  a  squalid 
and  sickly  hue. 

'Many  eyes,  that  have  long  since  been  closed  in  the 
grave,  have  looked  round  upon  that  scene  lightly 
enough,  when  entering  the  gate  of  the  old  Marshal- 
sea  Prison  for  the  first  time:  for  despair  seldom 

i  Better.    But  this  is  past,  in  a  better  age,  and  the  prison  exists  no 
longer. 


374  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

comes  with  the  first  severe  shock  of  misfortune.  A 
man  has  confidence  in  untried  friends,  he  remembers 
the  many  offers  of  service  so  freely  made  by  his  boon 
companions  when  he  wanted  them  not;  he  has  hope 
—the  hope  of  happy  inexperience — and  however  he 
may  bend  beneath  the  first  shock,  it  springs  up  in 
his  bosom,  and  flourishes  there  for  a  brief  space,  until 
it  droops  beneath  the  blight  of  disappointment  and 
neglect.  How  soon  have  those  same  eyes,  deeply 
sunken  in  the  head,  glared  from  faces  wasted  with 
famine,  and  sallow  from  confinement,  in  days  when 
it  was  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  debtors  rotted 
in  prison,  with  no  hope  of  release,  and  no  prospect  of 
liberty!  The  atrocity  in  its  full  extent  no  longer 
exists,  but  there  is  enough  of  it  left  to  give  rise  to 
occurrences  that  make  the  heart  bleed. 

'Twenty  years  ago,  that  pavement  was  worn  with 
the  footsteps  of  a  mother  and  child,  who,  day  by  day, 
so  surely  as  the  morning  came,  presented  themselves 
at  the  prison  gate;  often  after  a  night  of  restless 
misery  and  anxious  thoughts,  were  they  there,  a  full 
hour  too  soon,  and  then  the  young  mother  turning 
meekly  away,  would  lead  the  child  to  the  old  bridge, 
and  raising  him  in  her  arms  to  show  him  the  glisten- 
ing water,  tinted  with  the  light  of  the  morning's  sun, 
and  stirring  with  all  the  bustling  preparations  for 
business  and  pleasure  that  the  river  presented  at  that 
early  hour,  endeavour  to  interest  his  thoughts  in  the 
objects  before  him.  But  she  would  quickly  set  him 
down,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  shawl,  give  vent  to 
the  tears  that  blinded  her;  for  no  expression  of  in- 
terest or  amusement  lighted  up  his  thin  and  sickly 
face.  His  recollections  were  few  enough,  but  they 
were  all  of  one  kind:  all  connected  with  the  poverty 
and  misery  of  his  parents.  Hour  after  hour  had  he 
sat  on  his  mother's  knee,  and  with  childish  sympathy 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  375 

watched  the  tears  that  stole  down  her  face,  and  then 
crept  quietly  away  into  some  dark  corner,  and  sobbed 
himself  to  sleep.  The  hard  realities  of  the  world, 
with  many  of  its  worst  privations — hunger  and 
thirst,  and  cold  and  want — had  all  come  home  to  him 
from  the  first  dawnings  of  reason;  and  though  the 
form  of  childhood  was  there,  its  light  heart,  its  merry 
laugh,  and  sparkling  eyes,  were  wanting. 

'The  father  and  mother  looked  on  upon  this,  and 
upon  each  other,  with  thoughts  of  agony  they  dared 
not  breathe  in  words.  The  healthy,  strong-made 
man,  who  could  have  borne  almost  any  fatigue  of 
active  exertion,  was  wasting  beneath  the  close  con- 
finement and  unhealthy  atmosphere  of  a  crowded 
prison.  The  slight  and  delicate  woman  was  sinking 
beneath  the  combined  effects  of  bodily  and  mental 
illness.  The  child's  young  heart  was  breaking. 

'Winter  came,  and  with  it  weeks  of  cold  and  heavy 
rain.  The  poor  girl  had  removed  to  a  wretched 
apartment  close  to  the  spot  of  her  husband's  imprison- 
ment; and  though  the  change  had  been  rendered 
necessary  by  their  increasing  poverty,  she  was  hap- 
pier now,  for  she  was  nearer  him.  For  two  months, 
she  and  her  little  companion  watched  the  opening  of 
the  gate  as  usual.  One  day  she  failed  to  come,  for 
the  first  time.  Another  morning  arrived,  and  she 
came  alone.  The  child  was  dead. 

'They  little  know,  who  coldly  talk  of  the  poor 
man's  bereavements,  as  a  happy  release  from  pain 
to  the  departed,  and  a  merciful  relief  from  expense 
to  the  survivor — they  little  know,  I  say,  what  the 
agony  of  those  bereavements  is.  A  silent  look  of 
affection  and  regard  when  all  other  eyes  are  turned 
coldly  away — the  consciousness  that  we  possess  the 
sympathy  and  affection  of  one  being  when  all  others 
have  deserted  us — is  a  hold,  a  stay,  a  comfort,  in  the 


376  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

deepest  affliction,  which  no  wealth  could  purchase,  or 
power  bestow.  The  child  had  sat  at  his  parents'  feet 
for  hours  together,  with  his  little  hands  patiently 
folded  in  each  other,  and  his  thin  wan  face  raised 
towards  them.  They  had  seen  him  pine  away,  from 
day  to  day;  and  though  his  brief  existence  had  been 
a  joyless  one,  and  he  was  now  removed  to  that  peace 
and  rest  which,  child  as  he  was,  he  had  never  known 
in  this  world,  they  were  his  parents,  and  his  loss  sunk 
deep  into  their  souls. 

'It  was  plain  to  those  who  looked  upon  the  mother's 
altered  face,  that  death  must  soon  close  the  scene  of 
her  adversity  and  trial.  Her  husband's  fellow- 
prisoners  shrunk  from  obtruding  on  his  grief  and 
misery,  and  left  to  himself  alone,  the  small  room  he 
had  previously  occupied  in  common  with  two  com- 
panions. She  shared  it  with  him:  and  lingering  on 
without  pain,  but  without  hope,  her  life  ebbed  slowly 
away. 

'She  had  fainted  one  evening  in  her  husband's 
arms,  and  he  had  borne  her  to  the  open  window,  to 
revive  her  with  the  air,  when  the  light  of  the  moon 
falling  full  upon  her  face,  showed  him  a  change 
upon  her  features,  which  made  him  stagger  beneath 
her  weight,  like  a  helpless  infant. 

"Set  me  down,  George,"  she  said  faintly.  He 
did  so,  and  seating  himself  beside  her,  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"It  is  very  hard  to  leave  you,  George,"  she  said, 
"but  it  is  God's  will,  and  you  must  bear  it  for  my 
sake.  Oh!  how  I  thank  Him  for  having  taken  our 
boy!  He  is  happy,  and  in  Heaven  now.  What 
would  he  have  done  here,  without  his  mother!" 

"You  shall  not  die,  Mary,  you  shall  not  die,"  said 
the  husband,  starting  up.  He  paced  hurriedly  to 
and  fro,  striking  his  head  with  his  clenched  fists; 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  377 

then  reseating  himself  beside  her,  and  supporting  her 
in  his  arms,  added  more  calmly,  "Rouse  yourself,  my 
dear  girl.  Pray,  pray  do.  You  will  revive  yet." 

"Never  again,  George;  never  again,"  said  the 
dying  woman.  "Let  them  lay  me  by  my  poor  boy 
now,  but  promise  me,  that  if  ever  you  leave  this 
dreadful  place,  and  should  grow  rich,  you  will  have 
us  removed  to  some  quiet  country  churchyard,  a 
long,  long  way  off — very  far  from  here — where  we 
can  rest  in  peace.  Dear  George,  promise  me  you 
will." 

"I  do,  I  do,"  said  the  man,  throwing  himself  pas- 
sionately on  his  knees  before  her.  "Speak  to  me, 
Mary,  another  word;  one  look — but  one!" 

'He  ceased  to  speak:  for  the  arm  that  clasped  his 
neck,  grew  stiff  and  heavy.  A  deep  sigh  escaped 
from  the  wasted  form  before  him;  the  lips  moved, 
and  a  smile  played  upon  the  face;  but  the  lips  were 
pallid,  and  the  smile  faded  into  a  rigid  and  ghastly 
stare.  He  was  alone  in  the  world. 

'That  night,  in  the  silence  and  desolation  of  his 
miserable  room,  the  wretched  man  knelt  down  by  the 
dead  body  of  his  wife,  and  called  on  God  to  witness 
a  terrible  oath,  that  from  that  hour,  he  devoted  him- 
self to  revenge  her  death  and  that  of  his  child;  that 
thenceforth  to  the  last  moment  of  his  life,  his  whole 
energies  should  be  directed  to  this  one  object;  that 
his  revenge  should  be  protracted  and  terrible;  that 
his  hatred  should  be  undying  and  inextinguishable; 
and  should  hunt  its  object  through  the  world. 

'The  deepest  despair,  and  passion  scarcely  human, 
had  made  such  fierce  ravages  on  his  face  and  form, 
in  that  one  night,  that  his  companions  in  misfortune 
shrunk  affrighted  from  him  as  he  passed  by.  His 
eyes  were  bloodshot  and  heavy,  his  face  a  deadly 
white,  and  his  body  bent  as  if  with  age.  He  had 


378  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

bitten  his  under-lip  nearly  through  in  the  violence  of 
his  mental  suffering,  and  the  blood  which  had  flowed 
from  the  wound  had  trickled  down  his  chin,  and 
stained  his  shirt  and  neckerchief.  No  tear,  or  sound 
of  complaint  escaped  him :  but  the  unsettled  look,  and 
disordered  haste  with  which  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  yard,  denoted  the  fever  which  was  burning 
within. 

'It  was  necessary  that  his  wife's  body  should  be 
removed  from  the  prison,  without  delay.  He  re- 
ceived the  communication  with  perfect  calmness,  and 
acquiesced  in  its  propriety.  Nearly  all  the  inmates 
of  the  prison  had  assembled  to  witness  its  removal; 
they  fell  back  on  either  side  when  the  widower  ap- 
peared; he  walked  hurriedly  forward,  and  stationed 
himself,  alone,  in  a  little  railed  area  close  to  the  lodge 
gate,  from  whence  the  crowd,  with  an  instinctive 
feeling  of  delicacy,  had  retired.  The  rude  coffin 
was  borne  slowly  forward  on  men's  shoulders.  A 
dead  silence  pervaded  the  throng,  broken  only  by 
the  audible  lamentations  of  the  women,  and  the 
shuffling  steps  of  the  bearers  on  the  stone  pavement. 
They  reached  the  spot  where  the  bereaved  husband 
stood:  and  stopped.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
coffin,  and  mechanically  adjusting  the  pall  with 
which  it  was  covered,  motioned  them  onward.  The 
turnkeys  in  the  prison  lobby  took  off  their  hats  as 
it  passed  through,  and  in  another  moment  the  heavy 
gate  closed  behind  it.  He  looked  vacantly  upor;  the 
crowd,  and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 

'Although  for  many  weeks  after  this,  he  was 
watched,  night  and  day,  in  the  wildest  ravings  of 
fever,  neither  the  consciousness  of  his  loss,  nor  the 
recollection  of  the  vow  he  had  made,  ever  left  him 
for  a  moment.  Scenes  changed  before  his  eyes, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  379 

place  succeeded  place,  and  event  followed  event,  in 
all  the  hurry  of  delirium;  but  they  were  all  connected 
in  some  way  with  the  great  object  of  his  mind.  He 
was  sailing  over  a  boundless  expanse  of  sea,  with  a 
blood-red  sky  above,  and  the  angry  waters,  lashed 
into  fury  beneath,  boiling  and  eddying  up,  on  every 
side.  There  was  another  vessel  before  them,  toiling 
and  labouring  in  the  howling  storm:  her  canvas  flut- 
tering in  ribbons  from  the  mast,  and  her  deck 
thronged  with  figures  who  were  lashed  to  the  sides, 
over  which  huge  waves  every  instant  burst,  sweeping 
away  some  devoted  creatures  into  the  foaming  sea. 
Onward  they  bore,  amidst  the  roaring  mass  of  water, 
with  a  speed  and  force  which  nothing  could  resist; 
and  striking  the  stern  of  the  foremost  vessel,  crushed 
her,  beneath  their  keel.  From  the  huge  whirlpool 
which  the  sinking  wreck  occasioned,  arose  a  shriek 
so  loud  and  shrill — the  death-cry  of  a  hundred 
drowning  creatures,  blended  into  one  fierce  yell — 
that  it  rung  far  above  the  war-cry  of  the  ele- 
ments, and  echoed,  and  re-echoed,  till  it  seemed  to 
pierce  air,  sky,  and  ocean.  But  what  was  that— 
that  old  grey-head  that  rose  above  the  water's  surface, 
and  with  looks  of  agony  and  screams  for  aid,  buf- 
feted with  the  waves !  One  look,  and  he  had  sprung 
from  the  vessel's  side,  and  with  vigorous  strokes  was 
swimming  towards  it.  He  reached  it;  he  was  close 
upon  it.  They  were  his  features.  The  old  man  saw 
him  coming,  and  vainly  strove  to  elude  his  grasp. 
But  he  clasped  him  tight,  and  dragged  him  beneath 
the  water.  Down,  down  with  him,  fifty  fathoms 
down;  his  struggles  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until 
they  wholly  ceased.  He  was  dead;  he  had  killed 
him,  and  had  kept  his  oath. 

'He    was    traversing    the    scorching    sands    of    a 


380  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

mighty  desert,  bare-foot  and  alone.  The  sand 
choked  and  blinded  him;  its  fine  thin  grains  entered 
the  very  pores  of  his  skin,  and  irritated  him  almost 
to  madness.  Gigantic  masses  of  the  same  material, 
earned  forward  by  the  wind,  and  shone  through,  by 
the  burning  sun,  stalked  in  the  distance  like  pillars 
of  living  fire.  The  bones  of  men,  who  had  perished 
in  the  dreary  waste,  lay  scattered  at  his  feet;  a  fear- 
ful light  fell  on  everything  around;  so  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  nothing  but  objects  of  dread  and  horror 
presented  themselves.  Vainly  striving  to  utter  a  cry 
of  terror,  with  his  tongue  cleaving  to  his  mouth,  he 
rushed  madly  forward.  Armed  with  supernatural 
strength,  he  waded  through  the  sand,  until  exhausted 
with  fatigue  and  thirst,  he  fell  senseless  on  the  earth. 
What  fragrant  coolness  revived  him;  what  gushing 
sound  was  that  ?  Water  1  It  was  indeed  a  well ;  and 
the  clear  fresh  stream  was  running  at  his  feet.  He 
drank  deeply  of  it,  and  throwing  his  aching  limbs 
upon  the  bank,  sunk  into  a  delicious  trance.  The 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  roused  him.  An  old 
grey-headed  man  tottered  forward  to  slake  his  burn- 
ing thirst.  It  was  he  again!  He  wound  his  arms 
round  the  old  man's  body,  and  held  him  back.  He 
struggled,  and  shrieked  for  water,  for  but  one 
drop  of  water  to  save  his  life!  But  he  held  the 
old  man  firmly,  and  watched  his  agonies  with 
greedy  eyes;  and  when  his  lifeless  Head  fell  forward 
on  his  bosom,  he  rolled  the  corpse  from  him  with  his 
feet. 

'When  the  fever  left  him,  and  consciousness  re- 
turned, he  awoke  to  find  himself  rich  and  free:  to 
hear  that  the  parent  who  would  have  let  him  die  in 
gaol — would!  who  had  let  those  who  were  far  dearer 
to  him  than  his  own  existence,  die  of  want  and  sick- 
ness of  heart  that  medicine  cannot  cure — had  been 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  381 

found  dead  on  his  bed  of  down.  He  had  had  all  the 
neart  to  leave  his  son  a  beggar,  but  proud  even  of  his 
health  and  strength,  had  put  off  the  act  till  it  was  too 
late,  and  now  might  gnash  his  teeth  in  the  other 
world,  at  the  thought  of  the  wealth  his  remissness 
had  left  him.  He  awoke  to  this,  and  he  awoke  to 
more.  To  recollect  the  purpose  for  which  he  lived, 
and  to  remember  that  his  enemy  was  his  wife's  own 
father — the  man  who  had  cast  him  into  prison,  and 
who,  when  his  daughter  and  her  child  sued  at  his  feet 
for  mercy,  had  spurned  them  from  his  door.  Oh, 
how  he  cursed  the  weakness  that  prevented  him  from 
being  up,  and  active,  in  his  scheme  of  vengeance! 

'He  caused  himself  to  be  carried  from  the  scene 
of  his  loss  and  misery,  and  conveyed  to  a  quiet  resi- 
dence on  the  sea-coast;  not  in  the  hope  of  recovering 
his  peace  of  mind  or  happiness,  for  both  were  fled  for 
ever;  but  to  restore  his  prostrate  energies,  and  medi- 
tate on  his  darling  object.  And  here,  some  evil  spirit 
cast  in  his  way  the  opportunity  for  his  first,  most  hor- 
rible revenge. 

'It  was  summer  time;  and  wrapped  in  his  gloomy 
thoughts,  he  would  issue  from  his  solitary  lodgings 
early  in  the  evening,  and  wandering  along  a  narrow 
path  beneath  the  cliffs,  to  a  wild  and  lonely  spot  that 
had  struck  his  fancy  in  his  ramblings,  seat  himself 
on  some  fallen  fragment  of  the  rock,  and  burying  his 
face  in  his  hands,  remain  there  for  hours — sometimes 
until  night  had  completely  closed  in,  and  the  long 
shadows  of  the  frowning  cliffs  above  his  head,  cast  a 
thick  black  darkness  on  every  object  near  him. 

'He  was  seated  here,  one  calm  evening,  in  his  old 
position,  now  and  then  raising  his  head  to  watch  the 
flight  of  a  sea-gull,  or  carry  his  eye  along  the  glorious 
crimson  path,  which,  commencing  in  the  middle  of 
the  ocean,  seemed  to  lead  to  its  very  verge  where  the 


382  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sun  was  setting,  when  the  profound  stillness  of  the 
spot  was  broken  by  a  loud  cry  for  help;  he  listened, 
doubtful  of  his  having  heard  aright,  when  the  cry  was 
repeated  with  even  greater  vehemence  than  before, 
and  starting  to  his  feet,  he  hastened  in  the  direction 
whence  it  proceeded. 

'The  tale  told  itself  at  once:  some  scattered  gar- 
ments lay  on  the  beach;  a  human  head  was  just  visible 
above  the  waves  at  a  little  distance  from  the  shore; 
and  an  old  man,  wringing  his  hands  in  agony,  was 
running  to  and  fro,  shrieking  for  assistance.  The  in- 
valid, whose  strength  was  now  sufficiently  restored, 
threw  off  his  coat,  and  rushed  towards  the  sea,  with 
the  intention  of  plunging  in,  and  dragging  the 
drowning  man  ashore. 

"Hasten  here,  sir,  in  God's  name;  help,  help,  sir, 
for  the  love  of  Heaven.  He  is  my  son,  sir,  my  only 
son!"  said  the  old  man,  frantically,  as  he  advanced  to 
meet  him.  "My  only  son,  sir,  and  he  is  dying  before 
his  father's  eyes!" 

'At  the  first  word  the  old  man  uttered,  the  stranger 
checked  himself  in  his  career,  and,  folding  his  arms, 
stood  perfectly  motionless. 

"Great  God!"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  recoiling, 
"Heyling!" 

'The  stranger  smiled,  and  was  silent. 

"Heyling!"  said  the  old  man,  wildly.  "My  boy, 
Heyling,  my  dear  boy,  look,  look!"  gasping  for 
breath,  the  miserable  father  pointed  to  the  spot  where 
the  young  man  was  struggling  for  life. 

"Hark!"  said  the  old  man.  "He  cries  once  more. 
He  is  alive  yet.  Heyling,  save  him,  save  him!" 

'The  stranger  smiled  again,  and  remained  immov- 
able as  a  statue. 

"I  have  wronged  you,"  shrieked  the  old  man,  fall- 
ing on  his  knees,  and  clasping  his  hands  together. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  383 

"Be  revenged;  take  my  all,  my  life;  cast  me  into  the 
water  at  your  feet,  and,  if  human  nature  can  repress 
a  struggle,  I  will  die,  without  stirring  hand  or  foot. 
Do  it,  Heyling,  do  it,  but  save  my  boy,  he  is  so  young, 
Heyling,  so  young  to  die!" 

"Listen,"  said  the  stranger,  grasping  the  old  man 
fiercely  by  the  wrist:  "I  will  have  life  for  life,  and 
here  is  ONE.  My  child  died,  before  his  father's  eyes, 
a  far  more  agonizing  and  painful  death  than  that 
young  slanderer  of  his  sister's  worth  is  meeting  while 
I  speak.  You  laughed — laughed  in  your  daughter's 
face,  where  death  had  already  set  his  hand — at  our 
sufferings,  then.  What  think  you  of  them  now? 
See  there,  see  there !" 

'As  the  stranger  spoke,  he  pointed  to  the  sea.  A 
faint  cry  died  away  upon  its  surface:  the  last  power- 
ful struggle  of  the  dying  man  agitated  the  rippling 
waves  for  a  few  seconds:  and  the  spot  where  he 
had  gone  down  into  his  early  grave,  was  undis- 
tinguishable  from  the  surrounding  water. 

tf*  ,jf,  4|t  ,-Jf.  Aj*  J|t  ijt 

'Three  years  had  elapsed,  when  a  gentleman 
alighted  from  a  private  carriage  at  the  door  of  a  Lon- 
don attorney,  then  well  known  as  a  man  of  no  great 
nicety  in  his  professional  dealings:  and  requested  a 
private  interview  on  business  of  importance.  Al- 
though evidently  not  past  the  prime  of  life,  his  face 
was  pale,  haggard,  and  dejected;  and  it  did  not  re- 
quire the  acute  perception  of  the  man  of  business,  to 
discern  at  a  glance,  that  disease  or  suffering  had  done 
more  to  work  a  change  in  his  appearance,  than  the 
mere  hand  of  time  could  have  accomplished  in  twice 
the  period  of  his  whole  life. 

'  "I  wish  you  to  undertake  some  legal  business  for 
me,"  said  the  stranger. 

'The  attorney  bowed  obsequiously,  and  glanced  at 


384  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

a  large  packet  which  the  gentleman  carried  in  hit 
hand.  His  visitor  observed  the  look,  and  proceeded. 
'"It  is  no  common  business,"  said  he;  "nor  have 
these  papers  reached  my  hands  without  long  trouble 
and  great  expense." 

'The  attorney  cast  a  still  more  anxious  look  at  the 
packet :  and  his  visitor,  untying  the  string  that  bound 
it,  disclosed  a  quantity  of  promissory  notes,  with  copies 
of  deeds,  and  other  documents. 

'  "Upon  these  papers,"  said  the  client,  "the  man 
whose  name  they  bear,  has  raised,  as  you  will  see,  large 
sums  of  money,  for  some  years  past.  There  was  a 
tacit  understanding  between  him  and  the  men  into 
whose  hands  they  originally  went — and  from  whom  I 
have  by  degrees  purchased  the  whole  for  treble  and 
quadruple  their  nominal  value — that  these  loans 
should  be  from  time  to  time  renewed  until  a  given 
period  had  elapsed.  Such  an  understanding  is  no- 
where expressed.  He  has  sustained  many  losses  of 
late ;  and  these  obligations  accumulating  upon  him  at 
once,  would  crush  him  to  the  earth." 

"The  whole  amount  is  many  thousands  of 
pounds,"  said  the  attorney,  looking  over  the  papers. 

"It  is,"  said  the  client. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  inquired  the  man  of  busi- 
ness. 

"Do!"  replied  the  client,  with  sudden  vehemence. 
"Put  every  engine  of  the  law  in  force,  every  trick  that 
ingenuity  can  devise  and  rascality  execute ;  fair  means 
and  foul ;  the  open  oppression  of  the  law,  aided  by  all 
the  craft  of  its  most  ingenious  practitioners.  I 
would  have  him  die  a  harassing  and  lingering  death. 
Ruin  him,  seize  and  sell  his  lands  and  goods,  drive  him 
from  house  and  home,  and  drag  him  forth  a  beggar 
in  his  old  age,  to  die  in  a  common  gaol." 

"But  the  costs,  my  dear  sir,  the  costs  of  all  this," 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  38S 

reasoned  the  attorney,  when  he  had  recovered  from 
his  momentary  surprise.  "If  the  defendant  be  a  man 
of  straw,  who  is  to  pay  the  costs,  sir?" 

"Name  any  sum,"  said  the  stranger,  his  hand 
trembling  so  violently  with  excitement,  that  he  could 
scarcely  hold  the  pen  he  seized  as  he  spoke;  "Any  sum, 
and  it  is  yours.  Don't  be  afraid  to  name  it,  man.  I 
shall  not  think  it  dear,  if  you  gain  my  object." 

'The  attorney  named  a  large  sum,  at  hazard,  as  the 
advance  he  should  require  to  secure  himself  against 
the  possibility  of  loss;  but  more  with  the  view  of  as- 
certaining how  far  his  client  was  really  disposed  to 
go,  than  with  any  idea  that  he  would  comply  with  the 
demand.  The  stranger  wrote  a  cheque  upon  his 
banker,  for  the  whole  amount,  and  left  him. 

'The  draft  was  duly  honoured,  and  the  attorney, 
finding  that  his  strange  client  might  be  safely  relied 
upon,  commenced  his  work  in  earnest.  For  more 
than  two  years  afterwards,  Mr.  Heyling  would  sit 
whole  days  together,  in  the  office,  pouring  over  the 
papers  as  they  accumulated,  and  reading  again  and 
again,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  joy,  the  letters  of  re- 
monstrance, the  prayers  for  a  little  delay,  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  certain  ruin  in  which  the  opposite 
party  must  be  involved,  which  poured  in,  as  suit  after 
suit,  and  process  after  process,  was  commenced.  To 
all  applications  for  a  brief  indulgence,  there  was  but 
one  reply — the  money  must  be  paid.  Land,  house, 
furniture,  each  in  its  turn,  was  taken  under  some  one 
of  the  numerous  executions  which  were  issued;  and 
the  old  man  himself  would  have  been  immured  in 
prison  had  he  not  escaped  the  vigilance  of  the  officers, 
and  fled. 

'The  implacable  animosity  of  Heyling,  so  far  from 
being  satiated  by  the  success  of  his  persecution,  in- 
creased a  hundred-fold  with  the  ruin  he  inflicted.  On 


386 

being  informed  of  the  old  man's  flight,  his  fury  was 
unbounded.  He  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage,  tore  the 
hair  from  his  head,  and  assailed  with  horrid  impreca- 
tions the  men  who  had  been  entrusted  with  the  writ. 
He  was  only  restored  to  comparative  calmness  by  re- 
peated assurances  of  the  certainty  of  discovering  the 
fugitive.  Agents  were  sent  in  quest  of  him,  in  all 
directions;  every  stratagem  that  could  be  invented 
was  resorted  to,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  his 
place  of  retreat;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Half  a  year 
had  passed  over,  and  he  was  still  undiscovered. 

'At  length,  late  one  night,  Heyling,  of  whom 
nothing  had  been  seen  for  many  weeks  before,  ap- 
peared at  his  attorney's  private  residence,  and  sent 
up  word  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  him  instantly. 
Before  the  attorney,  who  had  recognised  his  voice 
from  above-stairs,  could  order  the  servant  to  admit 
him,  he  had  rushed  up  the  staircase,  and  entered  the 
drawing-room  pale  and  breathless.  Having  closed 
the  door,  to  prevent  being  overheard,  he  sunk  into  a 
chair,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice — 

"Hush!     I  have  found  him  at  last." 

"No!"  said  the  attorney.  "Well  done,  my  dear 
sir;  well  done." 

"He  lies  concealed  in  a  wretched  lodging  in  Cam- 
den  Town,"  said  Heyling.  "Perhaps  it  is  as  well, 
we  did  lose  sight  of  him,  for  he  has  been  living  alone 
there,  in  the  most  abject  misery,  all  the  time,  and  he 
is  poor — very  poor." 

"Very  good,"  said  the  attorney.  "You  will  have 
the  caption  made  to-morrow,  of  course?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Heyling.  "Stay!  No!  The 
next  day.  You  are  surprised  at  my  wishing  to  post- 
pone it,"  he  added,  with  a  ghastly  smile;  "but  I  had 
forgotten.  The  next  day  is  an  anniversary  in  his 
life:  let  it  be  done  then." 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  387 

*  "Very  good,"  said  the  attorney.  "Will  you  write 
down  instructions  for  the  officer?" 

"No;  let  him  meet  me  here,  at  eight  in  the  evening, 
and  I  will  accompany  him,  myself." 

'They  met  on  the  appointed  night,  and,  hiring  a 
hackney  coach,  directed  the  driver  to  stop  at  that  cor- 
ner of  the  old  Pancras  Road,  at  which  stands  the 
parish  work-house.  By  the  time  they  alighted  there, 
it  was  quite  dark;  and,  proceeding  by  the  dead  wall 
in  front  of  the  Veterinary  Hospital,  they  entered  a 
small  by-street,  which  is,  or  was  at  that  time,  called 
Little  College  Street,  and  which,  whatever  it  may  be 
now,  was  in  those  days  a  desolate  place  enough,  sur- 
rounded by  little  else  than  fields  and  ditches. 

'Having  drawn  the  travelling  cap  he  had  on  half 
over  his  face,  and  muffled  himself  in  his  cloak,  Hey- 
ling  stopped  before  the  meanest-looking  house  in  the 
street,  and  knocked  gently  at  the  door.  It  was  at 
once  opened  by  a  woman,  who  dropped  a  curtsey  of 
recognition,  and  Heyling,  whispering  the  officer  to 
remain  below,  crept  gently  upstairs,  and,  opening  the 
door  of  the  front  room,  entered  at  once. 

'The  object  of  his  search  and  his  unrelenting  ani- 
mosity, now  a  decrepid  old  man,  was  seated  at  a  bare 
deal  table,  on  which  stood  a  miserable  candle.  He 
started  on  the  entrance  of  the  stranger,  and  rose 
feebly  to  his  feet. 

'  "What  now,  what  now?"  said  the  old  man. 
"What  fresh  misery  is  this?  What  do  you  want 
here?" 

'  "A  word  with  you"  replied  Heyling.  As  he 
spoke,  he  seated  himself  at  the  other  end  of  the  table, 
and,  throwing  off  his  cloak  and  cap,  disclosed  his 
features. 

'The  old  man  seemed  instantly  deprived  of  the 
power  of  speech.  He  fell  backward  in  his  chair,  and, 


388  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

clasping  his  hands  together,  gazed  on  the  apparition 
with  a  mingled  look  of  abhorrence  and  fear. 

*  "This  day  six  years,"  said  Heyling,  "I  claimed  the 
life  you  owed  me  for  my  child's.     Beside  the  lifeless 
form  of  your  daughter,  old  man,  I  swore  to  live  a 
life  of  revenge.     I  have  never  swerved  from  my  pur- 
pose for  a  moment's  space ;  but  if  I  had,  one  thought 
of  her  uncomplaining,  suffering  look,  as  she  drooped 
away,  or  of  the  starving  face  of  our  innocent  child, 
would  have  nerved  me  to  my  task.     My  first  act  of 
requital  you  well  remember:  this  is  my  last." 

'The  old  man  shivered,  and  his  hands  dropped 
powerless  by  his  side. 

*  "I  leave  England  to-morrow,"  said  Heyling,  after 
a  moment's  pause.     "To-night  I  consign  you  to  the 
living  death  to  which  you  devoted  her — a  hopeless 
prison — " 

'He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  old  man's  countenance, 
and  paused.  He  lifted  the  light  to  his  face,  set  it 
gently  down,  and  left  the  apartment. 

"You  had  better  see  to  the  old  man,"  he  said  to 
the  woman,  as  he  opened  the  door,  and  motioned  the 
officer  to  follow  him  into  the  street.  "I  think  he  is 
ill."  The  woman  closed  the  door,  ran  hastily  up- 
stairs, and  found  him  lifeless. 

****** 

'Beneath  a  plain  grave-stone,  in  one  of  the  most 
peaceful  and  secluded  churchyards  in  Kent,  where 
wildflowers  mingle  with  the  grass,  and  the  soft  land- 
scape around  forms  the  fairest  spot  in  the  garden  of 
England,  lie  the  bones  of  the  young  mother  and  her 
gentle  child.  But  the  ashes  of  the  father  do  not 
ningle  with  theirs ;  nor,  from  that  night  forward,  did 
the  attorney  ever  gain  the  remotest  clue  to  the  sub- 
sequent history  of  his  queer  client.' 

As  the  old  man  concluded  his  tale,  he  advanced  to 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  389 

a  peg  in  one  corner,  and  taking  down  his  hat  and 
coat,  put  them  on  with  great  deliberation;  and,  with- 
out saying  another  word,  walked  slowly  away.  As 
the  gentleman  with  the  Mosaic  studs  had  fallen  asleep, 
and  the  major  part  of  the  company  were  deeply  occu- 
pied in  the  humorous  process  of  dropping  melted 
tallow-grease  into  his  brandy-and-water,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick departed  unnoticed,  and  having  settled  his  own 
score,  and  that  of  Mr.  Weller,  issued  forth,  in  com- 
pany with  that  gentleman,  from  beneath  the  portal 
of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MR.  PICKWICK  JOURNEYS  TO  IPSWICH,  AND  MEETS 
WITH  A  ROMANTIC  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  MIDDLE- 
AGED  LADY  IN  YELLOW  CURL-PAPERS 

'THAT  'ere  your  governor's  luggage,  Sammy?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller  of  his  affectionate  son,  as  he 
entered  the  yard  of  the  Bull  Inn,  Whitechapel,  with 
a  travelling  bag  and  a  small  portmanteau. 

'You  might  ha'  made  a  worser  guess  than  that,  old 
feller,'  replied  Mr.  Weller  the  younger,  setting  down 
his  burden  in  the  yard,  and  sitting  himself  down  upon 
it  afterwards.  "The  Governor  hisself  '11  be  down  here 
presently.' 

'He  's  a  cabbin'  it,  I  suppose  ?'  said  the  father. 

'Yes,  he  's  a  havin'  two  mile  o'  danger  at  eight- 
pence,'  responded  the  son.  'How 's  mother-in-law 
this  mornin'  ?' 

'Queer,  Sammy,  queer,'  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, with  impressive  gravity.  'She 's  been  gettin' 
rayther  in  the  Methodistical  order  lately,  Sammy;  and 
she  is  uncommon  pious,  to  be  sure.  She  's  too  good  a 


390  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

creetur  for  me,  Sammy.     I  feel  I  don't  deserve  her.' 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  Samuel,  'that 's  wery  self-denyin' 
o'  you.' 

'Wery,'  replied  his  parent,  with  a  sigh.  'She  's  got 
hold  o'  some  inwention  for  grown-up  people  being 
born  again,  Sammy ;  the  new  birth,  I  thinks  they  calls 
it.  I  should  wery  much  like  to  see  that  system  in 
haction,  Sammy.  I  should  wery  much  like  to  see 
your  mother-in-law  born  again.  Wouldn't  I  put  her 
out  to  nurse !' 

'What  do  you  think  them  women  does  t'  other  day,' 
continued  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  short  pause,  during 
which  he  had  significantly  struck  the  side  of  his  nose 
with  his  fore-finger  some  half-dozen  times.  'What  do 
you  think  they  does,  t'  other  day,  Sammy?' 

'Don't  know,'  replied  Sam,  'what?' 

'Goes  and  gets  up  a  grand  tea  drinkin'  for  a  feller 
they  calls  their  shepherd,'  said  Mr.  Weller.  'I  was  a 
standing  starin'  in  at  the  pictur  shop  down  at  our 
place,  when  I  sees  a  little  bill  about  it ;  "tickets  half -a- 
crown.  All  applications  to  be  made  to  the  committee. 
Secretary,  Mrs.  Weller" ;  and  when  I  got  home  there 
was  the  committee  a  sittin'  in  our  back  parlour. 
Fourteen  women;  I  wish  you  could  ha'  heard  'em, 
Sammy.  There  they  was,  a  passin'  resolutions,  and 
wotin'  supplies,  and  all  sorts  o'  games.  Well,  what 
with  your  mother-in-law  a  worrying  me  to  go,  and 
what  with  my  looking  for'ard  to  seein'  some  queer 
starts  if  I  did,  I  put  my  name  down  for  a  ticket;  at 
six  o'clock  on  the  Friday  evenin'  I  dresses  myself  out 
wery  smart,  and  off  I  goes  with  the  old  'ooman,  and 
up  we  walks  into  a  fust  floor  where  there  was  tea 
things  for  thirty,  and  a  whole  lot  o'  women  as  begins 
whisperin'  to  one  another,  and  lookin'  at  me,  as  if 
they  'd  never  seen  a  rayther  stout  genTm'n  of  eight- 
and-fifty  afore.  By  and  bye,  there  comes  a  great 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  391 

bustle  downstairs,  and  a  lanky  chap  with  a  red  nose 
and  a  white  neckcloth  rushes  up,  and  sings  out, 
"Here  's  the  shepherd  a  coming  to  wisit  his  faithful 
flock" ;  and  in  comes  a  fat  chap  in  black,  vith  a  great 
white  face,  a  smilin'  avay  like  clockwork.  Such  goin's 
on,  Sammy!  "The  kiss  of  peace,"  says  the  shepherd; 
and  then  he  kissed  the  women  all  round,  and  ven  he  'd 
done,  the  man  vith  the  red  nose  began.  I  was  just 
a  thinkin'  whether  I  hadn't  better  begin  too — 'specially 
as  there  was  a  wery  nice  lady  a  sittin'  next  me — ven 
in  comes  the  tea,  and  your  mother-in-law,  as  had  been 
makin'  the  kettle  bile  downstairs.  At  it  they  went, 
tooth  and  nail.  Such  a  precious  loud  hymn,  Sammy, 
while  the  tea  was  a  brewing;  such  a  grace,  such  eatin' 
and  drinkin' !  I  wish  you  could  ha'  seen  the  shepherd 
walkin'  into  the  ham  and  muffins.  I  never  see  such 
a  chap  to  eat  and  drink;  never.  The  red-nosed  man 
warn't  by  no  means  the  sort  of  person  you  'd  like  to 
grub  by  contract,  but  he  was  nothin'  to  the  shepherd. 
Well ;  arter  the  tea  was  over,  they  sang  another  hymn, 
and  then  the  shepherd  began  to  preach :  and  wery  well 
he  did  it,  considerin'  how  heavy  them  muffins  must 
have  lied  on  his  chest.  Presently  he  pulls  up,  all  of 
a  sudden,  and  hollers  out,  "Where  is  the  sinner;  where 
is  the  mis'rable  sinner?"  Upon  which,  all  the  women 
looked  at  me,  and  began  to  groan  as  if  they  was  a 
dying.  I  thought  it  was  rather  sing'ler,  but  hows'' 
ever,  I  says  nothing.  Presently  he  pulls  up  again, 
and  lookin'  wery  hard  at  me,  says,  "Where  is  the 
sinner;  where  is  the  mis'rable  sinner?"  and  all  the 
women  groans  again,  ten  times  louder  than  afore.  I 
got  rather  wild  at  this,  so  I  takes  a  step  or  two  for- 
'ard  and  says,  "My  friend,"  says  I,  "did  you  apply 
that  'ere  obserwation  to  me?"  'Stead  of  begging  my 
pardon  as  any  gen'l'm'n  would  ha'  done,  he  got  more 
abusive  than  ever:  called  me  a  wessel,  Sammy — a 


392  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

wessel  of  wrath — and  all  sorts  o'  names.  So  my 
blood  being  reg'larly  up,  I  first  give  him  two  or  three 
for  himself ,  and  then  two  or  three  more  to  hand  over 
to  the  man  with  the  red  nose,  and  walked  off.  I  wish 
you  could  ha'  heard  how  the  women  screamed,  Sammy, 
ven  they  picked  up  the  shepherd  from  under  the 
table —  Hallo!  here's  the  governor,  the  size  of  life.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  spoke,  Mr.  Pickwick  dismounted 
from  a  cab,  and  entered  the  yard. 

'Fine  mornin',  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior. 

'Beautiful  indeed,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Beautiful  indeed,'  echoed  a  red-haired  man  with 
an  inquisitive  nose  and  blue  spectacles,  who  had  un- 
packed himself  from  a  cab  at  the  same  moment  as 
Mr.  Pickwick.  'Going  to  Ipswich,  sir?' 

'I  am,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Extraordinary  coincidence.     So  am  I.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed. 

'Going  outside?'  said  the  red-haired  man. 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  again. 

'Bless  my  soul,  how  remarkable — I  am  going  oub 
side,  too,'  said  the  red-haired  man:  'we  are  positively 
going  together.'  And  the  red-haired  man,  who  was 
an  important -looking,  sharp-nosed,  mysterious-spoken 
personage,  with  a  bird-like  habit  of  giving  his  head  a 
jerk  every  time  he  said  anything,  smiled  as  if  he  had 
made  one  of  the  strangest  discoveries  that  ever  fell 
to  the  lot  of  human  wisdom. 

'I  am  happy  in  the  prospect  of  your  company,  sir,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Ah/  said  the  new  comer,  'it 's  a  good  thing  for 
both  of  us,  isn't  it?  Company,  you  see — company 
is — is — it's  a  very  different  thing  from  solitude — 
ain't  it?' 

'There's  no  denying  that  'ere,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
joining  in  the  conversation,  with  an  affable  smile. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  393 

'That 's  what  I  call  a  self-evident  proposition,  as  the 
dog's-meat  man  said,  when  the  housemaid  told  him 
he  warn't  a  gentleman.' 

'Ah,'  said  the  red-haired  man,  surveying  Mr.  Weller 
from  head  to  foot  with  a  supercilious  look.  'Friend 
of  yours,  sir?' 

'Not  exactly  a  friend,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a 
low  tone.  'The  fact  is,  he  is  my  servant,  but  I  allow 
him  to  take  a  good  many  liberties;  for,  between  our- 
selves, I  flatter  myself  he  is  an  original,  and  I  am 
rather  proud  of  him.' 

'Ah,'  said  the  red-haired  man,  'that,  you  see,  is  a 
matter  of  taste.  I  am  not  fond  of  anything  original; 
I  don't  like  it ;  don't  see  the  necessity  for  it.  What 's 
your  name,  sir?' 

'Here  is  my  card,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  much 
amused  by  the  abruptness  of  the  question,  and  the 
singular  manner  of  the  stranger. 

'All,'  said  the  red-haired  man,  placing  the  card  in 
his  pocket-book,  'Pickwick;  very  good.  I  like  to 
know  a  man's  name,  it  saves  so  much  trouble.  That 's 
my  card,  sir,  Magnus,  you  will  perceive,  sir — Magnus 
is  my  name.  It 's  rather  a  good  name,  I  think,  sir?' 

'A  very  good  name,  indeed,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
wholly  unable  to  repress  a  smile. 

'Yes,  I  think  it  is,'  replied  Mr.  Magnus.  'There  's 
a  good  name  before  it,  too,  you  will  observe.  Per- 
mit me,  sir — if  you  hold  the  card  a  little  slanting, 
this  way,  you  catch  the  light  upon  the  up-stroke. 
There — Peter  Magnus — sounds  well,  I  think,  sir.' 

'Very,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Curious  circumstance  about  those  initials,  sir,'  said 
Mr.  Magnus.  'You  will  observe — P.M. — post  me- 
ridian. In  hasty  notes  to  intimate  acquaintances,  I 
sometimes  sign  myself  "Afternoon."  It  amuses  my 
friends  very  much,  Mr.  Pickwick.' 


394  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'It  is  calculated  to  afford  them  the  highest  grati- 
fication, I  should  conceive,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rather 
envying  the  ease  with  which  Mr.  Magnus's  friends 
were  entertained. 

'Now,  genTm'n,'  said  the  hostler,  'coach  is  ready, 
if  you  please.' 

'Is  all  my  luggage  in  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Magnus. 

'All  right,  sir.' 

'Is  the  red  bag  in?' 

'All  right,  sir.' 

'And  the  striped  bag?' 

'Fore  boot,  sir.' 

'And  the  brown-paper  parcel?' 

'Under  the  seat,  sir.' 

'And  the  leather  hat -box?' 

'They  're  all  in,  sir.' 

'Now,  will  you  get  up?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Excuse  me,'  replied  Magnus,  standing  on  the 
wheel.  'Excuse  me,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  cannot  con- 
sent to  get  up,  in  this  state  of  uncertainty.  I  am 
quite  satisfied  from  that  man's  manner,  that  that 
leather  hat-box  is  not  in.' 

The  solemn  protestations  of  the  hostler  being 
wholly  unavailing,  the  leather  hat-box  was  obliged  to 
be  raked  up  from  the  lowest  depth  of  the  boot,  to 
satisfy  him  that  it  had  been  safely  packed ;  and  after 
he  had  been  assured  on  this  head,  he  felt  a  solemn 
presentiment,  first,  that  the  red  bag  was  mislaid,  and 
next  that  the  striped  bag  had  been  stolen,  and  then 
that  the  brown-paper  parcel  'had  come  untied.'  At 
length,  when  he  had  received  ocular  demonstration  of 
the  groundless  nature  of  each  and  every  of  these 
suspicions,  he  consented  to  climb  up  to  the  roof  of  the 
coach,  observing  that  now  he  had  taken  everything 
off  his  mind,  he  felt  quite  comfortable  and  happy. 

'You  're  given  to  nervousness,  an't  you,  sir?'  in- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  395 

quired  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  eyeing  the  stranger 
askance,  as  he  mounted  to  his  place. 

'Yes;  I  always  am  rather,  about  these  little  matters,' 
said  the  stranger,  'but  I  am  all  right  now — quite 
right.' 

'Well,  that 's  a  blessin','  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Sammy, 
help  your  master  up  to  the  box :  t'  other  leg,  sir,  that 's 
it;  give  us  your  hand,  sir.  Up  with  you.  You  was 
a  lighter  weight  when  you  was  a  boy,  sir.' 

'True  enough  that,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  the  breath- 
less Mr.  Pickwick,  good  humouredly,  as  he  took  his 
seat  on  the  box  beside  him. 

'Jump  up  in  front,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 
'Now,  Villam,  run  'em  out.  Take  care  o'  the  arch- 
vay,  gen'l'm'n.  "Heads,"  as  the  pieman  says. 
That'll  do,  Villam.  Let  'em  alone.'  And  away 
went  the  coach  up  Whitechapel,  to  the  admiration  of 
the  whole  population  of  that  pretty  densely  popu- 
lated quarter. 

'Not  a  wery  nice  neighbourhood  this,  sir,'  said  Sam, 
with  a  touch  of  the  hat,  which  always  preceded  his 
entering  into  conversation  with  his  master. 

'It  is  not  indeed,  Sam,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  sur- 
veying the  crowded  and  filthy  street  through  which 
they  were  passing. 

'It 's  a  wery  remarkable  circumstance,  sir,'  said 
Sam,  'that  poverty  and  oysters  always  seems  to  go 
together.' 

'I  don't  understand  you,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'What  I  mean,  sir,'  said  Sam,  'is,  that  the  poorer 
a  place  is,  the  greater  call  there  seems  to  be  for 
oysters.  Look  here,  sir;  here  's  a  oyster  stall  to  every 
half-dozen  houses.  The  street's  lined  vith  'em. 
Blessed  if  I  don't  think  that  ven  a  man's  wery  poor, 
he  rushes  out  of  his  lodgings,  and  eats  oysters  in 
reg'lar  desperation.' 


396  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'To  be  sure  he  does/  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior;  'and 
it 's  just  the  same  vith  pickled  salmon!' 

'Those  are  two  very  remarkable  facts,  which  never 
occurred  to  me  before,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'The 
very  first  place  we  stop  at,  I  '11  make  a  note  of  them.' 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  turnpike  at  Mile 
End;  a  profound  silence  prevailed  until  they  had  got 
two  or  three  miles  further  on,  when  Mr.  Weller, 
senior,  turning  suddenly  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said — 

'Wery  queer  life  is  a  pike-keeper's,  sir.' 

'A  what?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'A  pike-keeper.' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  a  pike-keeper?'  inquired 
Mr.  Peter  Magnus. 

'The  old  'un  means  a  turnpike  keeper,  genTm'n,' 
observed  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  in  explanation. 

'Oh,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  see.  Yes;  very  curious 
life.  Very  uncomfortable.' 

'They  're  all  on  'em  men  as  has  met  vith  some  dis- 
appointment in  life,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior. 

'Ay,  ay?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes.  Consequence  of  vich,  they  retires  from  the 
world,  and  shuts  themselves  up  in  pikes;  partly  vith 
the  view  of  being  solitary,  and  partly  to  rewenge 
themselves  on  mankind,  by  takin'  tolls.' 

'Dear  me,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  never  knew  that 
before.' 

'Fact,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  'if  they  was  genTm'n 
you  'd  call  'em  misanthropes,  but  as  it  is,  they  only 
takes  to  pike-keepinV 

With  such  conversation,  possessing  the  inestimable 
charm  of  blending  amusement  with  instruction,  did 
Mr.  Weller  beguile  the  tediousness  of  the  journey, 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  day.  Topics  of  con- 
versation were  never  wanting,  for  even  when  any 
pause  occurred  in  Mr.  Weller's  loquacitj7  it  was 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  397 

abundantly  supplied  by  the  desire  evinced  by  Mr. 
Magnus  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  whole 
of  the  personal  history  of  his  fellow-travellers,  and 
his  loudly-expressed  anxiety  at  every  stage,  respect- 
ing the  safety  and  well-being  of  the  two  bags,  the 
leather  hat-box,  and  the  brown-paper  parcel. 

In  the  main  street  of  Ipswich,  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  way,  a  short  distance  after  you  have  passed 
through  the  open  space  fronting  the  Town  Hall, 
stands  an  inn  known  far  and  wide  by  the  appella- 
tion of  'The  Great  White  Horse,'  rendered  the  more 
conspicuous  by  a  stone  statue  of  some  rampacious 
animal  with  flowing  mane  and  tail,  distantly  re- 
sembling an  insane  cart-horse,  which  is  elevated  above 
the  principal  door.  The  Great  White  Horse  is 
famous  in  the  neighbourhood,  in  the  same  degree  as 
a  prize  ox,  or  county  paper-chronicled  turnip,  or  un- 
wieldy pig — for  its  enormous  size.  Never  were  such 
labyrinths  of  uncarpeted  passages,  such  clusters  of 
mouldy,  ill-lighted  rooms,  such  huge  numbers  of  small 
dens  for  eating  or  sleeping  in,  beneath  any  one  roof, 
as  are  collected  together  between  the  four  walls  of 
the  Great  White  Horse  at  Ipswich. 

It  was  at  the  door  of  this  overgrown  tavern  that 
the  London  coach  stopped  at  the  same  hour  every 
evening;  and  it  was  from  this  same  London  coach, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick,  Sam  Weller,  and  Mr.  ^  Peter 
Magnus  dismounted,  on  the  particular  evening  to 
which  this  chapter  of  our  history  bears  reference. 

'Do  you  stop  here,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Peter  Mag- 
nus, when  the  striped  bag,  and  the  red  bag,  and  the 
brown-paper  parcel,  and  the  leather  hat-box,  had  all 
been  deposited  in  the  passage.  'Do  you  stop  here, 
sir?' 

'I  do/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Dear  me,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  'I  never  knew  any- 


398  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

thing  like  these  extraordinary  coincidences.  Why,  I 
stop  here  too.  I  hope  we  dine  together?' 

'With  pleasure,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  am 
not  quite  certain  whether  I  have  any  friends  here  or 
not,  though.  Is  there  any  gentleman  of  the  name  of 
Tupman  here,  waiter?' 

A  corpulent  man,  with  a  fortnight's  napkin  under 
his  arm,  and  coeval  stockings  on  his  legs,  slowly  de- 
sisted from  his  occupation  of  staring  down  the  street, 
on  this  question  being  put  to  him  by  Mr.  Pickwick; 
and,  after  minutely  inspecting  that  gentleman's  ap- 
pearance, from  the  crown  of  his  hat  to  the  lowest  but- 
ton of  his  gaiters,  replied  emphatically — 

'No/ 

'Nor  any  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Snodgrass?' 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No!' 

'Nor  Winkle?' 

'No/ 

'My  friends  have  not  arrived  to-day,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick.  'We  will  dine  alone,  then.  Show  us  a 
private  room,  waiter/ 

On  this  request  being  preferred,  the  corpulent  man 
condescended  to  order  the  boots  to  bring  in  the  gen- 
tlemen's luggage,  and  preceding  them  down  a  long 
dark  passage,  ushered  them  into  a  large  badly- 
furnished  apartment,  with  a  dirty  grate,  in  which  a 
small  fire  was  making  a  wretched  attempt  to  be  cheer- 
ful, but  was  fast  sinking  beneath  the  dispiriting  in- 
fluence of  the  place.  After  the  lapse  of  an  hour, 
a  bit  of  fish  and  a  steak  were  served  up  to  the  trav- 
ellers, and  when  the  dinner  was  cleared  away,  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew  their  chairs 
up  to  the  fire,  and  having  ordered  a  bottle  of  the 
worst  possible  port  wine,  at  the  highest  possible  price, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  399 

for  the  good  of  the  house,  drank  brandy-and-water 
for  their  own. 

Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  naturally  of  a  very  com- 
municative disposition,  and  the  brandy-and-water 
operated  with  wonderful  effect  in  warming  into  life 
the  deepest  hidden  secrets  of  his  bosom.  After 
sundry  accounts  of  himself,  his  family,  his  connexions, 
his  friends,  his  jokes,  his  business,  and  his  brothers 
(most  talkative  men  have  a  great  deal  to  say  about 
their  brothers),  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  took  a  blue  view 
of  Mr.  Pickwick  through  his  coloured  spectacles  for 
several  minutes,  and  then  said,  with  an  air  of 
modesty — 

'And  what  do  you  think — what  do  you  think,  Mr. 
Pickwick — I  have  come  down  here  for?' 

'Upon  my  word,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'it  is  wholly 
impossible  for  me  to  guess;  on  business,  perhaps.' 

'Partly  right,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  'but 
partly  wrong,  at  the  same  time :  try  again,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.' 

'Really,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  must  throw  myself 
on  your  mercy,  to  tell  me  or  not,  as  you  may  think 
best;  for  I  should  never  guess,  if  I  were  to  try  all 
night.' 

'Why,  then,  he — he — he!'  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus, 
with  a  bashful  titter,  'what  should  you  think,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  if  I  had  come  down  here,  to  make  a  pro- 
posal, sir,  eh?  He — he — he!' 

'Think!  That  you  are  very  likely  to  succeed/  re- 
plied Mr.  Pickwick,  with  one  of  his  beaming  smiles. 

'Ah !'  said  Mr.  Magnus.  'But  do  you  really  think 
so,  Mr.  Pickwick?  Do  you,  though?' 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No;  but  you  're  joking,  though.' 

'I  am  not,  indeed.' 


400  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Why,  then,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  'to  let  you  into  a 
little  secret,  I  think  so  too.  I  don't  mind  telling  you, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  although  I  'm  dreadful  jealous  by 
nature — horrid —  that  the  lady  is  in  this  house/  Here 
Mr.  Magnus  took  off  his  spectacles,  on  purpose  to 
wink,  and  then  put  them  on  again. 

'That 's  what  you  were  running  out  of  the  room 
for,  before  dinner  then,  so  often,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
archly. 

'Hush!  Yes,  you're  right,  that  was  it;  not  such 
a  fool  as  to  see  her,  though.' 

'Nol' 

'No;  wouldn't  do,  you  know,  after  having  just 
come  off  a  journey.  Wait  till  to-morrow,  sir;  double 
the  chance  then.  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir,  there  is  a  suit 
of  clothes  in  that  bag,  and  a  hat  in  that  box,  which  I 
expect,  in  the  effect  they  will  produce,  will  be  in- 
valuable to  me,  sir.' 

'Indeed !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes;  you  must  have  observed  my  anxiety  about 
them  to-day.  I  do  not  believe  that  such  another  suit 
of  clothes,  and  such  a  hat,  could  be  bought  for  money, 
Mr.  Pickwick.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  congratulated  the  fortunate  owner 
of  the  irresistible  garments,  on  their  acquisition;  and 
Mr.  Peter  Magnus  remained  for  a  few  moments  ap- 
parently absorbed  in  contemplation. 

'She  's  a  fine  creature,'  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

'Is  she?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Very,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  Very.  She  lives  about 
twenty  miles  from  here,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  heard  she 
would  be  here  to-night  and  all  to-morrow  forenoon, 
and  came  down  to  seize  the  opportunity.  I  think  an 
inn  is  a  good  sort  of  a  place  to  propose  to  a  single 
woman  in,  Mr.  Pickwick.  She  is  more  likely  to  feel 
the  loneliness  of  her  situation  in  travelling,  perhaps, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  401 

than  she  would  be  at  home.  What  do  you  think,  Mr. 
Pickwick?' 

'I  think  it  very  probable,'  replied  that  gentleman. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus,  'but  I  am  naturally  rather  curious;  what 
may  you  have  come  down  here  for?' 

'On  a  far  less  pleasant  errand,  sir,'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  the  colour  mounting  to  his  face  at  the 
recollection.  'I  have  come  down  here,  sir,  to  expose 
the  treachery  and  falsehood  of  an  individual,  upon 
whose  truth  and  honour  I  placed  implicit  reliance.' 

'Dear  me,'  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  'that 's  very  un- 
pleasant. It  is  a  lady,  I  presume?  Eh?  ah!  Sly, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  sly.  Well,  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir,  I 
wouldn't  probe  your  feelings  for  the  world.  Pain- 
ful subjects,  these,  sir,  very  painful.  Don't  mind  me, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  if  you  wish  to  give  vent  to  your  feel- 
ings. I  know  what  it  is  to  be  jilted,  sir;  I  have  en- 
dured that  sort  of  thing  three  or  four  times.' 

'I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  for  your  condolence 
on  what  you  presume  to  be  my  melancholy  case,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  winding  up  his  watch,  and  laying  it 
on  the  table,  'but — ' 

'No,  no,'  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  'not  a  word  more : 
it 's  a  painful  subject.  I  see,  I  see.  What 's  the 
time,  Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'Past  twelve.' 

'Dear  me,  it 's  time  to  go  to  bed.  It  will  never  do, 
sitting  here.  I  shall  be  pale  to-morrow,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick.' 

At  the  bare  notion  of  such  a  calamity,  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus  rang  the  bell  for  the  chamber-maid;  and  the 
striped  bag,  the  red  bag,  the  leather  hat-box,  and  the 
brown-paper  parcel,  having  been  conveyed  to  his  bed- 
room, he  retired  in  company  with  a  japanned  candle- 
stick, to  one  side  of  the  house,  while  Mr.  Pickwick, 


402  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  another  japanned  candlestick,  were  conducted 
through  a  multitude  of  tortuous  windings,  to  an- 
other. 

'This  is  your  room,  sir,'  said  the  chamber-maid. 

'Very  well,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round 
him.  It  was  a  tolerably  large  double-bedded  room, 
with  a  fire;  upon  the  whole,  a  more  comfortable- 
looking  apartment  than  Mr.  Pickwick's  short  ex- 
perience of  the  accommodations  of  the  Great  White 
Horse  had  led  him  to  expect. 

'Nobody  sleeps  in  the  other  bed,  of  course,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Oh  no,  sir.' 

'Very  good.  Tell  my  servant  to  bring  me  up  some 
hot  water  at  half -past  eight  in  the  morning,  and  that 
I  shall  not  want  him  any  more  to-night.' 

'Yes,  sir.'  And  bidding  Mr.  Pickwick  good-night, 
the  chamber-maid  retired,  and  left  him  alone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  before 
the  fire,  and  fell  into  a  train  of  rambling  medi- 
tations. First  he  thought  of  his  friends,  and  won- 
dered when  they  would  join  him;  then  his  mind  re- 
verted to  Mrs.  Martha  Bardell ;  and  from  that  lady 
it  wandered,  by  a  natural  process,  to  the  dingy 
counting-house  of  Dodson  and  Fogg.  From  Dod- 
son  and  Fogg's  it  flew  off  at  a  tangent,  to  the  very 
centre  of  the  history  of  the  queer  client;  and  then  it 
came  back  to  the  Great  White  Horse  at  Ipswich, 
with  sufficient  clearness  to  convince  Mr.  Pickwick 
that  he  was  falling  asleep.  So  he  roused  himself, 
and  began  to  undress,  when  he  recollected  he  had  left 
his  watch  on  the  table  downstairs. 

Now,  this  watch  was  a  special  favourite  with  Mr. 
Pickwick,  having  been  carried  about,  beneath  the 
shadow  of  his  waistcoat,  for  a  greater  number  of  years 
than  we  feel  called  upon  to  state  at  present.  The 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  403 

possibility  of  going  to  sleep,  unless  it  were  ticking 
gently  beneath  his  pillow,  or  in  the  watch-pocket 
over  his  head,  had  never  entered  Mr.  Pickwick's  brain. 
So  as  it  was  pretty  late  now,  and  he  was  unwilling  to 
ring  his  bell  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  he  slipped  on 
his  coat,  of  which  he  had  just  divested  himself,  and 
taking  the  japanned  candlestick  in  his  hand,  walked 
quietly  downstairs. 

The  more  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  went  down,  the  more 
stairs  there  seemed  to  be  to  descend,  and  again  and 
again,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  got  into  some  narrow  pas- 
sage, and  began  to  congratulate  himself  on  having 
gained  the  ground-floor,  did  another  flight  of  stairs 
appear  before  his  astonished  eyes.  At  last  he 
reached  a  stone  hall,  which  he  remembered  to  have 
seen  when  he  entered  the  house.  Passage  after  pas- 
sage did  he  explore ;  room  after  room  did  he  peep  into ; 
at  length,  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the 
search  in  despair,  he  opened  the  door  of  the  identical 
room  in  which  he  had  spent  the  evening,  and  beheld 
his  missing  property  on  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  seized  the  watch  in  triumph,  and 
proceeded  to  retrace  his  steps  to  his  bed-chamber. 
If  his  progress  downward  had  been  attended  with 
difficulties  and  uncertainty,  his  journey  back  was  in- 
finitely more  perplexing.  Rows  of  doors,  garnished 
with  boots  of  every  shape,  make,  and  size,  branched 
off  in  every  possible  direction.  A  dozen  times  did  he 
softly  turn  the  handle  of  some  bed-room  door  which 
resembled  his  own,  when  a  gruff  cry  from  within  of 
'Who  the  devil 's  that?'  or  'What  do  you  want  here?' 
caused  him  to  steal  away,  on  tiptoe,  with  a  perfectly 
marvellous  celerity.  He  was  reduced  to  the  verge  of 
despair,  when  an  open  door  attracted  his  attention. 
He  peeped  in.  Right  at  last!  There  were  the  two 
beds,  whose  situation  he  perfectly  remembered,  and 


404  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  fire  still  burning.  His  candle,  not  a  long  one 
when  he  first  received  it,  had  flickered  away  in  the 
drafts  of  air  through  which  he  had  passed,  and  sank 
into  the  socket  as  he  closed  the  door  after  him.  'Xo 
matter,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  can  undress  myself 
just  as  well  by  the  light  of  the  fire.' 

The  bedsteads  stood  one  on  each  side  of  the  door; 
and  on  the  inner  side  of  each  was  a  little  path,  ter- 
minating in  a  rush-bottomed  chair,  just  wide  enough 
to  admit  of  a  person's  getting  into,  or  out  of  bed, 
on  that  side,  if  he  or  she  thought  proper.  Having 
carefully  drawn  the  curtains  of  his  bed  on  the  outside, 
Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  on  the  rush-bottomed  chair, 
and  leisurely  divested  himself  of  his  shoes  and  gaiters. 
He  then  took  off  and  folded  up  his  coat,  waistcoat, 
and  neckcloth,  and  slowly  drawing  on  his  tasseled 
nightcap,  secured  it  firmly  on  his  head,  by  tying  be- 
neath his  chin  the  strings  which  he  always  had  at- 
tached to  that  article  of  dress.  It  was  at  this 
moment  that  the  absurdity  of  his  recent  bewilderment 
struck  upon  his  mind.  Throwing  himself  back  in 
the  rush-bottomed  chair,  Mr.  Pickwick  laughed  to 
himself  so  heartily,  that  it  would  have  been  quite  de- 
lightful to  any  man  of  well-constituted  mind  to  have 
watched  the  smiles  that  expanded  his  amiable  fea- 
tures as  they  shone  forth  from  beneath  the  night- 
cap. 

'It  is  the  best  idea,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  himself, 
smiling  till  he  almost  cracked  the  nightcap  strings: 
'It  is  the  best  idea,  my  losing  myself  in  this  place, 
and  wandering  about  those  staircases,  that  I  ever 
heard  of.  Droll,  droll,  very  droll/  Here  Mr.  Pick- 
wick smiled  again,  a  broader  smile  than  before,  and 
was  about  to  continue  the  process  of  undressing,  in 
the  best  possible  humour,  when  he  was  suddenly 
stopped  by  a  most  unexpected  interruption;  to  wit, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  405 

the  entrance  into  the  room  of  some  person  with  a 
candle,  who,  after  locking  the  door,  advanced  to  the 
dressing  table,  and  set  down  the  light  upon  it. 

The  smile  that  played  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  features 
was  instantaneously  lost  in  a  look  of  the  most  un- 
bounded and  wonder-stricken  surprise.  The  person, 
whoever  it  was,  had  come  in  so  suddenly  and  with 
so  little  noise,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  had  no  time 
to  call  out,  or  oppose  their  entrance.  Who  could  it 
be?  A  robber?  Some  evil-minded  person  who  had 
seen  him  come  upstairs  with  a  handsome  watch  in  his 
hand,  perhaps.  What  was  he  to  do! 

The  only  way  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  mysterious  visitor  with  the  least 
danger  of  being  seen  himself,  was  by  creeping  on 
to  the  bed,  and  peeping  out  from  between  the  curtains 
on  the  opposite  side.  To  this  manoeuvre  he  accord- 
ingly resorted.  Keeping  the  curtains  carefully 
closed  with  his  hand,  so  that  nothing  more  of  him 
could  be  seen  than  his  face  and  night-cap,  and  putting 
on  his  spectacles,  he  mustered  up  courage,  and  looked 
out. 

Mr.  Pickwick  almost  fainted  with  horror  and  dis- 
may. Standing  before  the  dressing-glass  was  a 
middle-aged  lady,  in  yellow  curl-papers,  busily  en- 
gaged in  brushing  what  ladies  call  their  'back-hair.' 
However  the  unconscious  middle-aged  lady  came 
into  that  room,  it  was  quite  clear  that  she  contem- 
plated remaining  there  for  the  night;  for  she  had 
brought  a  rushlight  and  shade  with  her,  which,  with 
praiseworthy  precaution  against  fire,  she  had  sta- 
tioned in  a  basin  on  the  floor,  where  it  was  glimmer- 
ing away,  like  a  gigantic  light-house  in  a  particularly 
small  piece  of  water. 

'Bless  my  soul,'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  'what  a 
dreadful  thing!' 


406  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Hem!'  said  the  lady;  and  in  went  Mr.  Pickwick's 
head  with  automaton-like  rapidity. 

'I  never  met  with  anything  so  awful  as  this,'  thought 
poor  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  cold  perspiration  starting  in 
drops  upon  his  nightcap.  'Never.  This  is  fearful.' 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  resist  the  urgent  desire 
to  see  what  was  going  forward.  So  out  went  Mr. 
Pickwick's  head  again.  The  prospect  was  worse 
than  before.  The  middle-aged  lady  had  finished  ar- 
ranging her  hair;  had  carefully  enveloped  it  in  a 
muslin  night-cap  with  a  small  plaited  border;  and 
was  gazing  pensively  on  the  fire. 

'This  matter  is  growing  alarming,'  reasoned  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  himself.  'I  can't  allow  things  to  go 
on  in  this  way.  By  the  self-possession  of  that  lady, 
it  is  clear  to  me  that  I  must  have  come  into  the 
wrong  room.  If  I  call  out,  she  '11  alarm  the  house; 
but  if  I  remain  here  the  consequences  will  be  still 
more  frightful.' 

Mr.  Pickwick,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  say,  was 
one  of  the  most  modest  and  delicate-minded  of 
mortals.  The  very  idea  of  exhibiting  his  night-cap 
to  a  lady  overpowered  him,  but  he  had  tied  those 
confounded  strings  in  a  knot,  and,  do  what  he  would, 
he  couldn't  get  it  off.  The  disclosure  must  be  made. 
There  was  only  one  other  way  of  doing  it.  He 
shrunk  behind  the  curtains,  and  called  out  v^ry 
loudly — 

'Ha— hum!' 

That  the  lady  started  at  this  unexpected  sound 
was  evident,  by  her  falling  up  against  the  upright 
shade;  that  she  persuaded  herself  it  must  have  been 
the  effect  of  imagination  was  equally  clear,  for  when 
Mr.  Pickwick,  under  the  impression  that  she  had 
fainted  away  stone-dead  from  fright,  ventured  to 


THE    MIDDLE-AGED    LADY    IN    THE   DOUBLE-BEDDED   ROOM. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  40? 

peep  out  again,  she  was  gazing  pensively  on  the  fire 
as  before. 

'Most  extraordinary  female  this,'  thought  Mr. 
Pickwick,  popping  in  again.  'Ha — hum!' 

These  last  sounds,  so  like  those  in  which,  as  legends 
inform  us,  the  ferocious  giant  Blunderbore  was  in 
the  habit  of  expressing  his  opinion  that  it  was  time 
to  lay  the  cloth,  were  too  distinctly  audible  to  be 
again  mistaken  for  the  workings  of  fancy. 

'Gracious  Heaven!'  said  the  middle-aged  lady, 
"what 's  that?' 

'It 's — it 's — only  a  gentleman,  Ma'am,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick  from  behind  the  curtains. 

'A  gentleman !'  said  the  lady  with  a  terrific  scream. 

'It 's  all  over!'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'A  strange  man!'  shrieked  the  lady.  Another  in- 
stant and  the  house  would  be  alarmed.  Her  gar- 
ments rustled  as  she  rushed  towards  the  door. 

'Ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  out  his  head, 
in  the  extremity  of  his  desperation,  'Ma'am !' 

Now,  although  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  actuated  by 
any  definite  object  in  putting  out  his  head,  it  was  in- 
stantaneously productive  of  a  good  effect.  The  lady, 
as  we  have  already  stated,  was  near  the  door.  She 
must  pass  it,  to  reach  the  staircase,  and  she  would 
most  undoubtedly  have  done  so  by  this  time,  had  not 
the  sudden  apparition  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  night-cap 
driven  her  back  into  the  remotest  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment, where  she  stood  staring  wildly  at  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, while  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  turn  stared  wildly  at 
her. 

'Wretch,'  said  the  lady,  covering  her  eyes  with  her 
hands,  'what  do  you  want  here?' 

'Nothing,  Ma'am;  nothing  whatever,  Ma'am,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick  earnestly. 


408  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Nothing!'  said  the  lady,  looking  up. 

'Nothing,  Ma'am,  upon  my  honour,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  nodding  his  head  so  energetically  that  the 
tassel  of  his  night-cap  danced  again.  'I  am  almost 
ready  to  sink,  Ma'am,  beneath  the  confusion  of  ad- 
dressing a  lady  in  my  night-cap  (here  the  lady  has- 
tily snatched  off  hers),  but  I  can't  get  it  off,  Ma'am 
(here  Mr.  Pickwick  gave  it  a  tremendous  tug,  in 
proof  of  the  statement) .  It  is  evident  to  me,  Ma'am, 
now,  that  I  have  mistaken  this  bed-room  for  my  own. 
I  had  not  been  here  five  minutes,  Ma'am,  when  you 
suddenly  entered  it.' 

'If  this  improbable  story  be  realty  true,  sir,'  said 
the  lady,  sobbing  violently,  'you  will  leave  it  instantly.' 

'I  will,  Ma'am,  with  the  greatest  pleasure,'  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Instantly,  sir,'  said  the  lady. 

'Certainly,  Ma'am,'  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  very 
quickly.  'Certainly,  Ma'am.  I — I — am  very  sorry, 
Ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  making  his  appearance 
at  the  bottom  of  the  bed,  'to  have  been  the  innocent 
occasion  of  this  alarm  and  emotion;  deeply  sorry, 
Ma'am/ 

The  lady  pointed  to  the  door.  One  excellent  qual- 
ity of  Mr.  Pickwick's  character  was  beautifully  dis- 
played at  this  moment,  under  the  most  trying  circum- 
stances. Although  he  had  hastily  put  on  his  hat  over 
his  night-cap,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  patrol;  al- 
though he  carried  his  shoes  and  gaiters  in  his  hand, 
and  his  coat  and  waistcoat  over  his  arm;  nothing 
could  subdue  his  native  politeness. 

'I  am  exceedingly  sorry,  Ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, bowing  very  low. 

'If  you  are,  sir,  you  will  at  once  leave  the  room,1 
said  the  lady. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  409 


'Immediately,  Ma'am;  this  instant,  Ma'am,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  opening  the  door,  and  dropping  both 
his  shoes  with  a  crash  in  so  doing. 

'I  trust,  Ma'am,'  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  gathering 
up  his  shoes,  and  turning  round  to  bow  again:  'I 
trust,  Ma'am,  that  my  unblemished  character,  and  the 
devoted  respect  I  entertain  for  your  sex,  will  plead  as 
some  slight  excuse  for  this — '  But  before  Mr.  Pick- 
wick could  conclude  the  sentence,  the  lady  had  thrust 
him  into  the  passage,  and  locked  and  bolted  the  door 
behind  him. 

Whatever  grounds  of  self -congratulation  Mr.  Pick- 
wick might  have  for  having  escaped  so  quietly  from 
his  late  awkward  situation,  his  present  position  was 
by  no  means  enviable.  He  was  alone,  in  an  open 
passage,  in  a  strange  house,  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
half  -dressed ;  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  could 
find  his  way  in  perfect  darkness  to  a  room  which  he 
had  been  wholly  unable  to  discover  with  a  light,  and 
if  he  made  the  slightest  noise  in  his  fruitless  attempts 
to  do  so,  he  stood  every  chance  of  being  shot  at,  and 
perhaps  killed,  by  some  wakeful  traveller.  He  had 
no  resource  but  to  remain  where  he  was  until  daylight 
appeared.  So  after  groping  his  way  a  few  paces 
down  the  passage,  and,  to  his  infinite  alarm,  stum- 
bling over  several  pairs  of  boots  in  so  doing,  Mr. 
Pickwick  crouched  into  a  little  recess  in  the  wall,  to 
wait  for  morning  as  philosophically  as  he  might. 

He  was  not  destined,  however,  to  undergo  this  ad- 
ditional trial  of  patience:  for  he  had  not  been  long 
ensconced  in  his  present  concealment  when,  to  his  un- 
speakable horror,  a  man,  bearing  a  light,  appeared  at 
the  end  of  the  passage.  His  horror  was  suddenly 
converted  into  joy,  however,  when  he  recognised  the 
form  of  his  faithful  attendant.  It  was  indeed  Mr. 


410  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Samuel  Weller,  who  after  sitting  up  thus  late,  in 
conversation  with  the  Boots,  who  was  sitting  up  for 
the  mail,  was  now  about  to  retire  to  rest. 

'Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly  appearing  be- 
fore him,  'Where  's  my  bed-room?' 

Mr.  Weller  stared  at  his  master  with  the  most  em- 
phatic surprise ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  question  had 
been  repeated  three  several  times,  that  he  turned 
round,  and  led  the  way  to  the  long-sought  apartment. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  as  he  got  into  bed.  'I 
have  made  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  mistakes  to- 
night, that  ever  were  heard  of.' 

'Wery  likely,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller  drily. 

'But  of  this  I  am  determined,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; 'that  if  I  were  to  stop  in  this  house  for  six 
months,  I  would  never  trust  myself  about  it,  alone, 
again.' 

'That 's  the  wery  prudentest  resolution  as  you 
could  come  to,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'You  ray- 
ther  want  somebody  to  look  arter  you,  sir,  when  your 
judgment  goes  out  a  wisitin'.' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. He  raised  himself  in  bed,  and  extended  his 
hand,  as  if  he  were  about  to  say  something  more ;  but 
suddenly  checking  himself,  turned  round,  and  bade 
his  valet  'Good  night.' 

'Good  night,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.     He  paused 
when  he   got  outside  the   door — shook   his   head- 
walked  on — stopped — snuffed  the  candle — shook  his 
head  again — and  finally  proceeded  slowly  to  his  cham- 
ber, apparently  buried  in  the  profoundest  meditation. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  411 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  WHICH  ME.  SAMUEL,  WELLER  BEGINS  TO  DEVOTE  HIS 
ENERGIES  TO  THE  RETURN  MATCH  BETWEEN  HIM- 
SELF AND  MR.  TROTTER 

IN  a  small  room  in  the  vicinity  of  the  stable-yard,  be- 
times in  the  morning,  which  was  ushered  in  by  Mr. 
Pickwick's  adventure  with  the  middle-aged  lady  in  the 
yellow  curl-papers,  sat  Mr.  Weller  senior,  preparing 
himself  for  his  journey  to  London.  He  was  sitting 
in  an  excellent  attitude  for  having  his  portrait  taken. 
It  is  very  possible  that  at  some  earlier  period  of  his 
career,  Mr.  Weller's  profile  might  have  presented  a 
bold  and  determined  outline.  His  face,  however,  had 
expanded  under  the  influence  of  good  living,  and  a 
disposition  remarkable  for  resignation;  and  its  bold 
fleshy  curves  had  so  far  extended  beyond  the  limits 
originally  assigned  them,  that  unless  you  took  a  full 
view  of  his  countenance  in  front,  it  was  difficult  to 
distinguish  more  than  the  extreme  tip  of  a  very 
rubicund  nose.  His  chin,  from  the  same  cause,  had 
acquired  the  grave  and  imposing  form  which  is  gen- 
erally described  by  prefixing  the  word  'double'  to  that 
expressive  feature;  and  his  complexion  exhibited  that 
peculiarly  mottled  combination  of  colours  which  is 
only  to  be  seen  in  gentlemen  of  his  profession,  and 
in  underdone  roast  beef.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a 
crimson  travelling  shawl,  which  merged  into  his  chin 
by  such  imperceptible  gradations,  that  it  was  difficult 
to  distinguish  the  folds  of  the  one,  from  the  folds  of 
the  other.  Over  this,  he  mounted  a  long  waistcoat  of 
a  broad  pink-striped  pattern,  and  over  that  again,  a 
wide-skirted  green  coat,  ornamented  with  large  brass 
buttons,  whereof  the  two  which  garnished  the  waist, 


412  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

were  so  far  apart,  that  no  man  had  ever  beheld  them 
both,  at  the  same  time.  His  hair,  which  was  short, 
sleek,  and  black,  was  just  visible  beneath  the  capa- 
cious brim  of  a  low-crowned  brown  hat.  His  legs 
were  encased  in  knee-cord  breeches,  and  painted  top- 
boots:  and  a  copper  watch-chain,  terminating  in  one 
seal,  and  a  key  of  the  same  material,  dangled  loosely 
from  his  capacious  waistband. 

We  have  said  that  Mr.  Weller  was  engaged  in 
preparing  for  his  journey  to  London — he  was  taking 
sustenance,  in  fact.  On  the  table  before  him.  stood 
a  pot  of  ale,  a  cold  round  of  beef,  and  a  very  respect- 
able-looking loaf,  to  each  of  which  he  distributed  his 
favours  in  turn,  with  the  most  rigid  impartiality.  He 
had  just  cut  a  mighty  slice  from  the  latter,  when 
the  footsteps  of  somebody  entering  the  room,  caused 
him  to  raise  his  head ;  and  he  beheld  his  son. 

'Mornin',  Sammy  1'  said  the  father. 

The  son  walked  up  to  the  pot  of  ale,  and  nodding 
significantly  to  his  parent,  took  a  long  draught  by 
way  of  reply. 

'Wery  good  power  o'  suction,  Sammy,'  said  Mr. 
Weller  the  elder,  looking  into  the  pot,  when  his  first- 
born had  set  it  down  half  empty.  'You  'd  ha'  made 
an  uncommon  fine  oyster,  Sammy,  if  you  'd  been  born 
in  that  station  o'  life.' 

'Yes,  I  des-say  I  should  ha'  managed  to  pick  up  a 
respectable  livin','  replied  Sam,  applying  himself  to 
the  cold  beef,  with  considerable  vigour. 

'I  'm  wery  sorry,  Sammy,'  said  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller,  shaking  up  the  ale,  by  describing  small  circles 
with  the  pot,  preparatory  to  drinking.  'I  'm  wery 
sorry,  Sammy,  to  hear  from  your  lips,  as  you  let 
yourself  be  gammoned  by  that  'ere  mulberry  man.  I 
always  thought,  up  to  three  days  ago,  that  the  names 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  413 

of  Veller  and  gammon  could  never  come  into  contract, 
Sammy,  never.' 

'Always  exceptin'  the  case  of  a  widder,  of  course,' 
said  Sam. 

'Widders,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  slightly 
changing  colour.  'Widders  are  'ceptions  to  ev'ry 
rule.  I  have  heerd  how  many  ord'nary  women,  one 
widder's  equal  to,  in  pint  o'  comin'  over  you.  I  think 
it 's  five-and-twenty,  but  I  don't  rightly  know  vether 
it  an't  more.' 

'Well;  that 's  pretty  well,'  said  Sam. 

'Besides,'  continued  Mr.  Weller,  not  noticing  the 
interruption,  'that 's  a  wery  different  thing.  You 
know  what  the  counsel  said,  Sammy,  as  defended 
the  gen'lem'n  as  beat  his  wif e  with  the  poker,  venever 
he  got  jolly.  "And  arter  all,  my  Lord,"  says  he,  "it 's 
a  amable  weakness."  So  I  says  respectin'  widders, 
Sammy,  and  so  you  '11  say,  ven  you  gets  as  old  as  me.' 

'I  ought  to  ha'  know'd  better,  I  know,'  said  Sam. 

'Ought  to  ha'  know'd  better!'  repeated  Mr.  Weller, 
striking  the  table  with  his  fist.  'Ought  to  ha'  know'd 
better!  why,  I  know  a  young  'un  as  hasn't  had  half 
nor  quarter  your  eddication — as  hasn't  slept  about  the 
markets,  no,  not  six  months — who  'd  ha'  scorned  to  be 
let  in,  in  such  a  vay;  scorned  it,  Sammy.'  In  the 
excitement  of  feeling  produced  by  this  agonising  re- 
flection, Mr.  Weller  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  an 
additional  pint  of  ale. 

'Well,  it 's  no  use  talking  about  it  now,'  said  Sam. 
'It 's  over,  and  can't  be  helped,  and  that 's  one  con- 
solation, as  they  always  says  in  Turkey,  ven  they  cuts 
the  wrong  man's  head  off.  It 's  my  innings  now, 
gov'rnor,  and  as  soon  as  I  catches  hold  o'  this  'ere 
Trotter,  I  '11  have  a  good  'un.' 

'I  hope  you  will,  Sammy.     I  hope  you  will,'  re- 


414  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

turned  Mr.  Weller.  'Here  's  your  health,  Sammy, 
and  may  you  speedily  vipe  off  the  disgrace  as  you  Ve 
inflicted  on  the  family  name.'  In  honour  of  this  toast 
Mr.  Weller  imbibed  at  a  draught,  at  least  two-thirds 
of  the  newly-arrived  pint,  and  handed  it  over  to  his 
son,  to  dispose  of  the  remainder,  which  he  instantan- 
eously did. 

'And  now,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  consulting 
the  large  double-faced  silver  watch  that  hung  at  the 
end  of  the  copper  chain.  'Now  it 's  time  I  was  up 
at  the  office  to  get  my  vay-bill,  and  see  the  coach 
loaded;  for  coaches,  Sammy,  is  like  guns — they  re- 
quires to  be  loaded  with  wery  great  care,  afore  they 
go  off.' 

At  this  parental  and  professional  joke,  Mr.  Weller 
junior  smiled  a  filial  smile.  His  revered  parent  con- 
tinued in  a  solemn  tone — 

'I  'm  a  goin'  to  leave  you,  Samivel  my  boy,  and 
there  's  no  telling  ven  I  shall  see  you  again.  Your 
mother-in-law  may  ha'  been  too  much  for  me,  or  a 
thousand  things  may  have  happened  by  the  time  you 
next  hears  any  news  o'  the  celebrated  Mr.  Veller  o' 
the  Belle  Savage.  The  family  name  depends  wery 
much  upon  you,  Samivel,  and  I  hope  you  '11  do  wot 's 
right  by  it.  Upon  all  little  pints  o'  breedin',  I  know 
I  may  trust  you  as  veil  as  if  it  was  my  own  self. 
So  I  Ve  only  this  here  one  little  bit  of  adwice  to 
give  you.  If  ever  you  gets  to  up'ards  o'  fifty,  and 
feels  disposed  to  go  a  marryin'  anybody — no  matter 
who — jist  you  shut  yourself  up  in  your  own  room, 
if  you  Ve  got  one,  and  pison  yourself  off  hand. 
Hangin  's  wulgar,  so  don't  you  have  nothin'  to  say 
to  that.  Pison  yourself,  Samivel,  my  boy,  pison 
yourself,  and  you  '11  be  glad  on  it  arterwards.'  With 
these  affecting  words,  Mr.  Weller  looked  stedfastly 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  415 

on  his  son,  and  turning  slowly  upon  his  heel,  disap- 
peared from  his  sight. 

In  the  contemplative  mood  which  these  words  had 
awakened,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  walked  forth  from  the 
Great  White  Horse  when  his  father  had  left  him; 
and  bending  his  steps  towards  St.  Clement's  Church, 
endeavoured  to  dissipate  his  melancholy  by  strolling 
among  its  ancient  precincts.  He  had  loitered  about, 
for  some  time,  when  he  found  himself  in  a  retired 
spot — a  kind  of  court-yard  of  venerable  appearance 
— which  he  discovered  had  no  other  outlet  than  the 
turning  by  which  he  had  entered.  He  was  about 
retracing  his  steps,  when  he  was  suddenly  transfixed 
to  the  spot  by  a  sudden  appearance;  and  the  mode 
and  manner  of  this  appearance,  we  now  proceed  to 
relate. 

Mr.  Samuel  Weller  had  been  staring  up,  at  the 
old  brick  houses  now  and  then,  in  his  deep  abstraction, 
bestowing  a  wink  upon  some  healthy-looking  servant 
girl  as  she  drew  up  a  blind,  or  threw  open  a  bed- 
room window,  when  the  green  gate  of  a  garden  at 
the  bottom  of  the  yard,  opened,  and  a  man  having 
emerged  therefrom,  closed  the  green  gate  very  care- 
fully after  him,  and  walked  briskly  towards  the  very 
spot  where  Mr.  Weller  was  standing. 

Now,  taking  this,  as  an  isolated  fact,  unaccom- 
panied by  any  attendant  circumstances,  there  was 
nothing  very  extraordinary  in  it;  because  in  many 
parts  of  the  world,  men  do  come  out  of  gardens,  close 
green  gates  after  them,  and  even  walk  briskly  away, 
without  attracting  any  particular  share  of  public  ob- 
servation. It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  there  must  have 
been  something  in  the  man,  or  in  his  manner,  or  both, 
to  attract  Mr.  Weller's  particular  notice.  Whether 
there  was,  or  not,  we  must  leave  the  reader  to  deter- 


416  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

mine,  when  we  have  faithfully  recorded  the  behaviour 
of  the  individual  in  question. 

When  the  man  had  shut  the  green  gate  after  him, 
he  walked,  as  we  have  said  twice  already,  with  a 
brisk  pace  up  the  court-yard ;  but  he  no  sooner  caught 
sight  of  Mr.  Weller,  than  he  faltered,  and  stopped, 
as  if  uncertain,  for  the  moment,  what  course  to  adopt. 
As  the  green  gate  was  closed  behind  him,  and  there 
was  no  other  outlet  but  the  one  in  front,  however,  he 
was  not  long  in  perceiving  that  he  must  pass  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  to  get  away.  He  therefore  resumed 
his  brisk  pace,  and  advanced,  staring  straight  before 
him.  The  most  extraordinary  thing  about  the  man 
was,  that  he  was  contorting  his  face  into  the  most 
fearful  and  astonishing  grimaces  that  ever  were  be- 
held. Nature's  handiwork  never  was  disguised  with 
such  extraordinary  artificial  carving,  as  the  man  had 
overlaid  his  countenance  with  in  one  moment. 

'Well!'  said  Mr.  Weller  to  himself,  as  the  man 
approached.  'This  is  wery  odd.  I  could  ha'  swore 
it  was  him.' 

Up  came  the  man,  and  his  face  became  more  fright- 
fully distorted  than  ever,  as  he  drew  nearer. 

'I  could  take  my  oath  to  that  'ere  black  hair,  and 
mulberry  suit,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  'only  I  never  see 
such  a  face  as  that,  afore.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  the  man's  features  as- 
sumed an  unearthly  twinge,  perfectly  hideous.  He 
was  obliged  to  pass  very  near  Sam,  however,  and 
the  scrutinising  glance  of  that  gentleman  enabled 
him  to  detect,  under  all  these  appalling  twists  of 
feature,  something  too  like  the  small  eyes  of  Mr.  Job 
Trotter,  to  be  easily  mistaken. 

'Hallo,  you  sir !'  shouted  Sam,  fiercely. 

The  stranger  stopped. 

'Hallo  1'  repeated  Sam,  still  more  gruffly. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  417 

The  man  with  the  horrible  face,  looked,  with  the 
greatest  surprise,  up  the  court,  and  down  the  court, 
and  in  at  the  windows  of  the  houses — everywhere 
but  at  Sam  Weller — and  took  another  step  forward, 
when  he  was  brought  to  again,  by  another  shout. 

'Hallo,  you  sir!'  said  Sam,  for  the  third  time. 

There  was  no  pretending  to  mistake  where  the 
voice  came  from  now,  so  the  stranger,  having  no 
other  resource,  at  last  looked  Sam  Weller  full  in  the 
face. 

'It  won't  do,  Job  Trotter,'  said  Sam.  'Come! 
None  o'  that  'ere  nonsense.  You  ain't  so  wery  'and- 
some  that  you  can  afford  to  throw  avay  many  o'  your 
good  looks.  Bring  them  'ere  eyes  o'  your'n  back 
into  their  proper  places,  or  I  '11  knock  'em  out  of 
your  head.  D'  ye  hear?' 

As  Mr.  Weller  appeared  fully  disposed  to  act  up 
to  the  spirit  of  this  address,  Mr.  Trotter  gradually 
allowed  his  face  to  resume  its  natural  expression;  and 
then  giving  a  start  of  joy,  exclaimed,  'What  do  I 
see?  Mr.  Walker!' 

'Ah,'  replied  Sam.  'You  're  wery  glad  to  see  me, 
ain't  you?' 

'Glad!'  exclaimed  Job  Trotter;  'oh,  Mr.  Walker, 
if  you  had  but  known  how  I  have  looked  forward  to 
this  meeting!  It  is  too  much,  Mr.  Walker;  I  can- 
not bear  it,  indeed  I  cannot.'  And  with  these  words, 
Mr.  Trotter  burst  into  a  regular  inundation  of  tears, 
and,  flinging  his  arms  around  those  of  Mr.  Weller, 
embraced  him  closely,  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy. 

'Get  off!'  cried  Sam,  indignant  at  this  process,  and 
vainly  endeavouring  to  extricate  himself  from  the 
grasp  of  his  enthusiastic  acquaintance.  'Get  off,  I 
tell  you.  What  are  you  crying  over  me  for,  you 
portable  ingine?' 

'Because  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,'  replied  Job 


418  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Trotter,  gradually  releasing  M r.  Weller,  as  the  first 
symptoms  of  his  pugnacity  disappeared.  'Oh,  Mr. 
Walker,  this  is  too  much.' 

'Too  much!'  echoed  Sam,  'I  think  it  is  too  much— 
raytherl     Now  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  eh?' 

Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply;  for  the  little  pink 
pocket  handkerchief  was  in  full  force. 

'What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  afore  I  knock 
your  head  off!'  repeated  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  threaten- 
ing manner. 

'Eh!'  said  Mr.  Trotter,  with  a  look  of  virtuous 
surprise. 

'What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?' 

'I,  Mr.  Walker!' 

'Don't  call  me  Valker;  my  name's  Veller;  you 
know  that  veil  enough.  What  have  you  got  to  say 
to  me?' 

'Bless  you,  Mr.  Walker — Weller,  I  mean — a  great 
many  things,  if  you  will  come  away  somewhere,  where 
we  can  talk  comfortably.  If  you  knew  how  I  have 
looked  for  you,  Mr.  Weller — ' 

'Wery  hard,  indeed,  I  s'pose?'  said  Sam,  drily. 

'Very,  very,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  without  mov- 
ing a  muscle  of  his  face.  'But  shake  hands,  Mr. 
Weller.' 

Sam  eyed  his  companion  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
then,  as  if  actuated  by  a  sudden  impulse,  complied 
with  his  request. 

'How,'  said  Job  Trotter,  as  they  walked  away— 
'How  is  your  dear,  good  master?     Oh,  he  is  a  worthy 
gentleman,  Mr.  Weller!     I  hope  he  didn't  catch  cold, 
that  dreadful  night,  sir.' 

There  was  a  momentary  look  of  deep  slyness  in 
Job  Trotter's  eye,  as  he  said  this,  which  ran  a  thrill 
through  Mr.  Weller's  clenched  fist  as  he  burnt  with 
a  desire  to  make  a  demonstration  on  his  ribs.  Sam 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  419 

constrained  himself,  however,  and  replied  that  his 
master  was  extremely  well. 

'Oh,  I  am  so  glad,'  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  'is  he 
here?' 

'Is  your'n?'  asked  Sam,  by  way  of  reply. 

'Oh  yes,  he  is  here,  and  I  grieve  to  say,  Mr.  Wel- 
ler,  he  is  going  on,  worse  than  ever.' 

'Ah,  ah  ?'  said  Sam. 

'Oh,  shocking — terrible !' 

'At  a  boarding-school?'  said  Sam. 

'No,  not  at  a  boarding-school,'  replied  Job  Trotter, 
with  the  same  sly  look  which  Sam  had  noticed  be- 
fore; 'not  at  a  boarding-school.' 

'At  the  house  with  the  green  gate?'  said  Sam,  eye- 
ing his  companion  closely. 

'No,  no — oh,  not  there,'  replied  Job,  with  a  quick- 
ness very  unusual  to  him,  'not  there.' 

'What  was  you  a  doin'  there?'  asked  Sam,  with  a 
sharp  glance.  'Got  inside  the  gate  by  accident,  per- 
haps?' 

'Why,  Mr.  Weller,'  replied  Job,  'I  don't  mind 
telling  you  my  little  secrets,  because,  you  know,  we 
took  such  a  fancy  for  each  other  when  we  first  met. 
You  recollect  how  pleasant  we  were  that  morning?' 

'Oh  yes,'  said  Sam,  impatiently.  'I  remember. 
Well.' 

'Well,'  replied  Job,  speaking  with  great  precision, 
and  in  the  low  tone  of  a  man  who  communicates  an 
important  secret;  'in  that  house  with  the  green  gate, 
Mr.  Weller,  they  keep  a  good  many  servants.' 

'So  I  should  think,  from  the  look  on  it,'  interposed 
Sam. 

'Yes/  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  'and  one  of  them  is 
a  cook,  who  has  saved  up  a  little  money,  Mr.  Weller, 
and  is  desirous,  if  she  can  establish  herself  in  life, 
to  open  a  little  shop  in  the  chandlery  way,  you  see.' 


420  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Yes.' 

'Yes,  Mr.  Weller.  Well,  sir,  I  met  her  at  a  chapel 
that  I  go  to:  a  very  neat  little  chapel  in  this  town, 
Mr.  Weller,  where  they  sing  the  number  four  col- 
lection of  hymns,  which  I  generally  carry  about  with 
me,  in  a  little  book,  which  you  may  perhaps  have  seen 
in  my  hand — and  I  got  a  little  intimate  with  her, 
Mr.  Weller,  and  from  that  an  acquaintance  sprung 
up  between  us,  and  I  may  venture  to  say,  Mr.  Weller, 
that  I  am  to  be  the  chandler.' 

'Ah,  and  a  wery  amiable  chandler  you  '11  make,' 
replied  Sam,  eyeing  Job  with  a  side  look  of  intense 
dislike. 

'The  great  advantage  of  this,  Mr.  Weller,'  con- 
tinued Job,  his  eyes  filling  with  tears  as  he  spoke, 
'will  be,  that  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  my  present 
disgraceful  service  with  that  bad  man,  and  to  devote 
myself  to  a  better  and  more  virtuous  life;  more  like 
the  way  in  which  I  was  brought  up,  Mr.  Weller.' 

'You  must  ha'  been  wery  nicely  brought  up,'  said 
Sam. 

'Oh,  very,  Mr.  Weller,  very/  replied  Job.  At 
the  recollection  of  the  purity  of  his  youthful  days, 
Mr.  Trotter  pulled  forth  the  pink  handkerchief,  and 
wept  copiously. 

'You  must  ha'  been  an  uncommon  nice  boy,  to  go 
to  school  vith,'  said  Sam. 

'I  was,  sir,'  replied  Job,  heaving  a  deep  sigh.  'I 
was  the  idol  of  the  place.' 

'Ah,'  said  Sam,  'I  don't  wonder  at  it.  What  a 
comfort  you  must  ha'  been  to  your  blessed  mother.' 

At  these  words,  Mr.  Job  Trotter  inserted  an  end 
of  the  pink  handkerchief  into  the  corner  of  each  eye, 
one  after  the  other,  and  began  to  weep  copiously. 

'Wot 's  the  matter  vith  the  man?'  said  Sam,  indig- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  421 

nantly.  'Chelsea  waterworks  is  nothin'  to  you. 
What  are  you  melting  vith  now?  The  consciousness 
o'  willainy?' 

'I  cannot  keep  my  feelings  down,  Mr.  Weller,' 
said  Job,  after  a  short  pause.  'To  think  that  my 
master  should  have  suspected  the  conversation  I  had 
with  yours,  and  so  dragged  me  away  in  a  post-chaise, 
and  after  persuading  the  sweet  young  lady  to  say 
she  knew  nothing  of  him,  and  bribing  the  school- 
mistress to  do  the  same,  deserted  her  for  a  better 
speculation !  Oh !  Mr.  Weller,  it  makes  me  shudder.' 

'Oh,  that  was  the  vay,  was  it?'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'To  be  sure  it  was,'  replied  Job. 

'Veil,'  said  Sam,  as  they  had  now  arrived  near  the 
Hotel,  'I  vant  to  have  a  little  bit  o'  talk  with  you, 
Job ;  so  if  you  're  not  partickler  engaged,  I  should 
like  to  see  you  at  the  Great  White  Horse  to-night, 
somewheres  about  eight  o'clock.' 

'I  shall  be  sure  to  come,'  said  Job. 

'Yes,  you  'd  better,'  replied  Sam,  with  a  meaning 
look,  'or  else  I  shall  perhaps  be  asking  arter  you,  at 
the  other  side  of  the  green  gate,  and  then  I  might 
cut  you  out,  you  know.' 

'I  shall  be  sure  to  be  with  you,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Trot- 
ter; and  wringing  Sam's  hand  with  the  utmost 
fervour,  he  walked  away. 

'Take  care,  Job  Trotter,  take  care,'  said  Sam,  look- 
ing after  him,  'or  I  shall  be  one  too  many  for  you 
this  time.  I  shall,  indeed.'  Having  uttered  this 
soliloquy,  and  looked  after  Job  till  he  was  to  be 
seen  no  more,  Mr.  Weller  made  the  best  of  his  way 
to  his  master's  bed-room. 

'It 's  all  in  training,  sir,'  said  Sam. 

'What 's  in  training,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  have  found  'em  out,  sir,'  said  Sam. 


422  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Found  out  who?' 

'That  'ere  queer  customer,  and  the  melan-cholly 
chap  with  the  black  hair.' 

'Impossible,  Sam!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the 
greatest  energy.  'Where  are  they,  Sam;  where  are 
they?' 

'Hush,  hush!'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  and  as  he  as- 
sisted Mr.  Pickwick  to  dress,  he  detailed  the  plan  of 
action  on  which  he  proposed  to  enter. 

'But  when  is  this  to  be  done,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'All  in  good  time,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

Whether  it  was  done  in  good  time,  or  not,  will  be 
seen  hereafter. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WHEREIN  MR.  PETER  MAGNUS  GROWS  JEALOUS,  AND 
THE  MIDDLE-AGED  LADY  APPREHENSIVE,  WHICH 
BRINGS  THE  PICKWICKIANS  WITHIN  THE  GRASP  OF 
THE  LAW 

WHEN  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the  room  in  which 
he  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  had  spent  the  preceding 
evening,  he  found  that  gentleman  with  the  major 
part  of  the  contents  of  the  two  bags,  the  leather  hat- 
box,  and  the  brown-paper  parcel,  displayed  to  all 
possible  advantage  on  his  person,  while  he  himself 
was  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  in  a  state  of  the 
utmost  excitement  and  agitation. 

'Good  morning,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus. 
'What  do  you  think  of  this,  sir?' 

'Very  effective  indeed,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  sur- 
veying the  garments  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  with  a 
good-natured  smile. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  423 

'Yes,  I  think  it'll  do,'  said  Mr.  Magnus.  'Mr. 
Pickwick,  sir,  I  have  sent  up  my  card.' 

'Have  you?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'And  the  waiter  brought  back  word,  that  she  would 
see  me  at  eleven — at  eleven,  sir;  it  only  wants  a 
quarter  now.' 

'Very  near  the  time,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes,  it  is  rather  near,'  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  'rather 
too  near  to  be  pleasant — eh!  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir?' 

'Confidence  is  a  great  thing  in  these  cases,'  ob- 
served Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  believe  it  is,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus.  'I 
am  very  confident,  sir.  Really,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  do 
not  see  why  a  man  should  feel  any  fear  in  such  a 
case  as  this,  sir.  What  is  it,  sir?  There  's  nothing 
to  be  ashamed  of ;  it 's  a  matter  of  mutual  accom- 
modation, nothing  more.  Husband  on  one  side,  wife 
on  the  other.  That 's  my  view  of  the  matter,  Mr. 
Pickwick.' 

'It  is  a  very  philosophical  one,'  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'But  breakfast  is  waiting,  Mr.  Magnus. 
Come.' 

Down  they  sat  to  breakfast,  but  it  was  evident, 
notwithstanding  the  boasting  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus, 
that  he  laboured  under  a  very  considerable  degree 
of  nervousness,  of  which  loss  of  appetite,  a  propen- 
sity to  upset  the  tea-things,  a  spectral  attempt  at 
drolleiy,  and  an  irresistible  inclination  to  look  at  the 
clock  every  other  second,  were  among  the  principal 
symptoms. 

*  'He — he — he,'  tittered  Mr.  Magnus,  affecting 
cheerfulness,  and  gasping  with  agitation.  'It  only 
wants  two  minutes,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Am  I  pale,  sir?' 

'Xot  very,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

There  was  a  brief  pause. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick;  but  have  you 


424  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ever  done  this  sort  of  thing  in  your  time?'  said  Mr. 
Magnus. 

'You  mean  proposing?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes.' 

'Never,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  energy, 
'never.' 

'You  have  no  idea,  then,  how  it 's  best  to  begin?' 
said  Mr.  Magnus. 

'Why,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  may  have  formed 
some  ideas  upon  the  subject,  but,  as  I  have  never 
submitted  them  to  the  test  of  experience,  I  should  be 
sorry  if  you  were  induced  to  regulate  your  proceed- 
ings by  them.' 

'I  should  feel  very  much  obliged  to  you,  for  any 
advice,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  taking  another  look 
at  the  clock:  the  hand  of  which  was  verging  on  the 
five  minutes  past. 

'Well,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  profound 
solemnity  with  which  that  great  man  could,  when  he 
pleased,  render  his  remarks  so  deeply  impressive: 
'I  should  commence,  sir,  with  a  tribute  to  the  lady's 
beauty  and  excellent  qualities;  from  them,  sir,  I 
should  diverge  to  my  own  unworthiness.' 

'Very  good,'  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

'Unworthiness  for  her  only,  mind,  sir,'  resumed 
Mr.  Pickwick;  'for  to  show  that  I  was  not  wholly 
unworthy,  sir,  I  should  take  a  brief  review  of  my 
past  life,  and  present  condition.  I  should  argue,  by 
analogy,  that  to  anybody  else,  I  must  be  a  very  de- 
,  sirable  object.  I  should  then  expatiate  on  the 
warmth  of  my  love,  and  the  depth  of  my  devotion. 
Perhaps  I  might  then  be  tempted  to  seize  her  hand.' 

'Yes,  I  see,'  said  Mr.  Magnus;  'that  would  be  a 
very  great  point.' 

'I  should  then,  sir/  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  grow- 
ing warmer  as  the  subject  presented  itself  in  more 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  425 

glowing  colours  before  him:  'I  should  then,  sir,  come 
to  the  plain  and  simple  question,  "Will  you  have 
me?"  I  think  I  am  justified  in  assuming  that  upon 
this,  she  would  turn  away  her  head.' 

'You  think  that  may  be  taken  for  granted?'  said 
Mr.  Magnus;  'because  if  she  did  not  do  that  at  the 
right  place,  it  would  be  embarrassing.' 

'I  think  she  would/  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Upon 
this,  sir,  I  should  squeeze  her  hand,  and  I  think — I 
think,  Mr.  Magnus — that  after  I  had  done  that,  sup- 
posing there  was  no  refusal,  I  should  gently  draw 
away  the  handkerchief,  which  my  slight  knowledge 
of  human  nature  leads  me  to  suppose  the  lady  would 
be  applying  to  her  eyes  at  the  moment,  and  steal 
a  respectful  kiss.  I  think  I  should  kiss  her,  Mr. 
Magnus;  and  at  this  particular  point,  I  am  decidedly 
of  opinion  that  if  the  lady  were  going  to  take  me 
at  all,  she  would  murmur  into  my  ears  a  bashful 
acceptance.' 

Mr.  Magnus  started;  gazed  on  Mr.  Pickwick's 
intelligent  face,  for  a  short  time  in  silence;  and  then 
(the  dial  pointing  to  the  ten  minutes  past)  shook 
him  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  rushed  desperately 
from  the  room. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  taken  a  few  strides  to  and  fro; 
and  the  small  hand  of  the  clock  following  the  latter 
part  of  his  example,  had  arrived  at  the  figure  which 
indicates  the  half-hour,  when  the  door  suddenly 
opened.  He  turned  round  to  meet  Mr.  Peter  Mag- 
nus, and  encountered,  in  his  stead,  the  joyous  face 
of  Mr,  Tupman,  the  serene  countenance  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  the  intellectual  lineaments  of  Mr.  Snod- 
grass.  As  Mr.  Pickwick  greeted  them,  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus  tripped  into  the  room. 

'My  friends,  the  gentleman  I  was  speaking  of — 
Mr.  Magnus,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


426  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Your  servant,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  evi- 
dently in  a  high  state  of  excitement;  'Mr.  Pickwick, 
allow  me  to  speak  to  you,  one  moment,  sir.' 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Magnus  harnessed  his  fore- 
finger to  Mr.  Pickwick's  button-hole,  and,  drawing 
him  to  a  window  recess,  said — 

'Congratulate  me,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  followed  your 
advice  to  the  very  letter.' 

'And  it  was  all  correct,  was  it?'  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'It  was,  sir.  Could  not  possibly  have  been  better,' 
replied  Mr.  Magnus.  'Mr.  Pickwick,  she  is  mine.' 

'I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  warmly  shaking  his  new  friend  by  the 
hand. 

'You  must  see  her,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Magnus;  'this 
way,  if  you  please.  Excuse  us  for  one  instant,  gen- 
tlemen.' Hurrying  on  in  this  way,  Mr.  Peter  Mag- 
nus drew  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  room.  He  paused 
at  the  next  door  in  the  passage,  and  tapped  gently 
thereat. 

'Come  in,'  said  a  female  voice.     And  in  they  went. 

'Miss  Witherfield,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  'Allow  me 
to  introduce  my  very  particular  friend,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg  to  make  you  known  to 
Miss  Witherfield.' 

The  lady  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room.  As 
Mr.  Pickwick  bowed,  he  took  his  spectacles  from 
his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  put  them  on;  a  process 
which  he  had  no  sooner  gone  through,  than,  uttering 
an  exclamation  of  surprise,  Mr.  Pickwick  retreated 
several  paces,  and  the  lady,  with  a  half-suppressed 
scream,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  dropped  into 
a  chair;  whereupon  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  stricken 
motionless  on  the  spot,  and  gazed  from  one  to  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  427 

other,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  the  extremi- 
ties of  horror  and  surprise. 

This  certainly  was,  to  all  appearance,  very  un- 
accountable behaviour;  but  the  fact  is,  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick no  sooner  put  on  his  spectacles,  than  he  at 
once  recognised  in  the  future  Mrs.  Magnus  the  lady 
into  whose  room  he  had  so  unwarrantably  intruded 
on  the  previous  night;  and  the  spectacles  had  no 
sooner  crossed  Mr.  Pickwick's  nose,  than  the  lady  at 
once  identified  the  countenance  which  she  had  seen 
surrounded  by  all  the  horrors  of  a  night-cap.  So 
the  lady  screamed,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  started. 

'Mr.  Pickwick!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Magnus,  lost  in 
astonishment,  'What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  sir? 
What  is  the  meaning  of  it,  sir?'  added  Mr.  Magnus, 
in  a  threatening,  and  a  louder  tone. 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  somewhat  indignant  at 
the  very  sudden  manner  in  which  Mr.  Peter  Magnus 
had  conjugated  himself  into  the  imperative  mood, 
'I  decline  answering  that  question.' 

'You  decline  it,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

'I  do,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  'I  object  to  say- 
ing anything  which  may  compromise  that  lady,  or 
awaken  unpleasant  recollections  in  her  breast,  with- 
out her  consent  and  permission.' 

'Miss  Witherfield,'  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  'do 
you  know  this  person?' 

'Know  him!'  repeated  the  middle-aged  lady,  hesi- 
tating. 

'Yes,  know  him,  ma'am.  I  said  know  him,'  re- 
plied Mr.  Magnus,  with  ferocity. 

'I  have  seen  him,'  replied  the  middle-aged  lady. 

'Where?'  inquired  Mr.  Magnus,  'where?' 

'That,'  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  rising  from  her 
seat,  and  averting  her  head,  'that  I  would  not  reveal 
for  worlds.' 


428  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  understand  you,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'and  respect  your  delicacy;  it  shall  never  be  revealed 
by  me,  depend  upon  it.' 

'Upon  my  word,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Magnus,  'con- 
sidering the  situation  in  which  I  am  placed  with  re- 
gard to  yourself,  you  carry  this  matter  off  with  tol- 
erable coolness — tolerable  coolness,  ma'am.' 

'Cruel  Mr.  Magnus!'  said  the  middle-aged  lady; 
here  she  wept  very  copiously  indeed. 

'Address  your  observations  to  me,  sir,'  interposed 
Mr.  Pickwick;  'I  alone  am  to  blame,  if  anybody  be.' 

'Oh!  you  alone  are  .to  blame,  are  you,  sir?'  said 
Mr.  Magnus;  'I — I — see  through  this,  sir.  You 
repent  of  your  determination  now,  do  you?' 

'My  determination!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Your  determination,  sir.  Oh!  don't  stare  at  me, 
sir,'  said  Mr.  Magnus;  'I  recollect  your  words  last 
night,  sir.  You  came  down  here,  sir,  to  expose  the 
treachery  and  falsehood  of  an  individual  on  whose 
truth  and  honour  you  had  placed  implicit  reliance 
—eh?'  Here  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  indulged  in  a  pro- 
longed sneer;  and  taking  off  his  green  spectacles— 
which  he  probably  found  superfluous  in  his  fit  of 
jealousy — rolled  his  little  eyes  about,  in  a  manner 
frightful  to  behold. 

'Eh?'  said  Mr.  Magnus;  and  then  he  repeated  the 
sneer  with  increased  effect.  'But  you  shall  answer 
it,  sir.' 

'Answer  what?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Never  mind,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  striding  up 
and  down  the  room.  'Never  mind.' 

There  must  be  something  very  comprehensive  in 
this  phrase  of  'Never  mind,'  for  we  do  not  recollect 
to  have  ever  witnessed  a  quarrel  in  the  street,  at  a 
theatre,  public  room,  or  elsewhere,  in  which  it  has 
not  been  the  standard  reply  to  all  belligerent  inquiries. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  429 

'Do  you  call  yourself  a  gentleman,  sir?' — 'Never 
mind,  sir.'  'Did  I  offer  to  say  anything  to  the 
young  woman,  sir?' — 'Never  mind,  sir.'  'Do  you 
want  your  head  knocked  up  against  that  wall,  sir?' 
— 'Never  mind,  sir.'  It  is  observable,  too,  that  there 
would  appear  to  be  some  hidden  taunt  in  this  uni- 
versal 'Never  mind,'  which  rouses  more  indignation 
in  the  bosom  of  the  individual  addressed,  than  the 
most  lavish  abuse  could  possibly  awaken. 

We  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  the  application  of 
this  brevity  to  himself,  struck  exactly  that  indigna- 
tion to  Mr.  Pickwick's  soul,  which  it  would  infalli- 
bly have  roused  in  a  vulgar  breast.  We  merely 
record  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  room 
door,  and  abruptly  called  out,  'Tupman,  come  here!' 

Mr.  Tupman  immediately  presented  himself,  with 
a  look  of  very  considerable  surprise. 

'Tupman,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'a  secret  of  some 
delicacy,  in  which  that  lady  is  concerned,  is  the  cause 
of  a  difference  which  has  just  arisen  between  this 
gentleman  and  mj^self.  When  I  assure  him,  in 
your  presence,  that  it  has  no  relation  to  himself,  and 
is  not  in  any  way  connected  with  his  affairs,  I  need 
hardly  beg  you  to  take  notice  that  if  he  continue  to 
dispute  it,  he  expresses  a  doubt  of  my  veracity, 
which  I  shall  consider  extremely  insulting.'  As  Mr. 
Pickwick  said  this,  he  looked  encyclopaedias  at  Mr. 
Peter  Magnus. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  upright  and  honourable  bearing, 
coupled  with  that  force  and  energy  of  speech  which 
so  eminently  distinguished  him,  would  have  carried 
conviction  to  any  reasonable  mind;  but  unfortunately 
at  that  particular  moment,  the  mind  of  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus  was  in  anything  but  reasonable  order. 
Consequently,  instead  of  receiving  Mr.  Pickwick's 
explanation  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  he  forthwith 


430  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

proceeded  to  work  himself  into  a  red-hot,  scorching, 
consuming  passion,  and  to  talk  about  what  was  due 
to  his  own  feelings,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing:  add- 
ing force  to  his  declamation  by  striding  to  and  fro, 
and  pulling  his  hair — amusements  which  he  would 
vary  occasionally,  by  shaking  his  fist  in  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's philanthropic  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  turn,  conscious  of  his  own 
innocence  and  rectitude,  and  irritated  by  having  un- 
fortunately involved  the  middle-aged  lady  in  such 
an  unpleasant  affair,  was  not  so  quietly  disposed  as 
was  his  wont.  The  consequence  was,  that  words  ran 
high,  and  voices  higher;  and  at  length  Mr.  Mag- 
nus told  Mr.  Pickwick  he  should  hear  from  him;  to 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  replied,  with  laudable  polite- 
ness, that  the  sooner  he  heard  from  him  the  better; 
whereupon  the  middle-aged  lady  rushed  in  terror 
from  the  room,  out  of  which  Mr.  Tupman  dragged 
Mr.  Pickwick,  leaving  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  to  him- 
self and  meditation. 

If  the  middle-aged  lady  had  mingled  much  writh  the 
busy  world,  or  had  profited  at  all,  by  the  manners 
and  customs  of  those  who  make  the  laws  and  set  the 
fashions,  she  would  have  known  that  this  sort  of 
ferocity  is  the  most  harmless  thing  in  nature;  but  as 
she  had  lived  for  the  most  part  in  the  country,  and 
never  read  the  parliamentary  debates,  she  was  little 
versed  in  these  particular  refinements  of  civilised 
life.  Accordingly,  when  she  had  gained  her  bed- 
chamber, bolted  herself  in,  and  begun  to  meditate  on 
the  scene  she  had  just  witnessed,  the  most  terrific 
pictures  of  slaughter  and  destruction  presented 
themselves  to  her  imagination;  among  which,  a  full- 
length  portrait  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  borne  home 
by  four  men,  with  the  embellishment  of  a  whole 
barrel-full  of  bullets  in  his  left  side,  was  among  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          431 

very  least.  The  more  the  middle-aged  lady  medi- 
tated, the  more  terrified  she  became;  and  at  length 
she  determined  to  repair  to  the  house  of  the  princi- 
pal magistrate  of  the  town,  and  request  him  to  secure 
the  persons  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman  with- 
out delay. 

To  this  decision  the  middle-aged  lady  was  impelled 
by  a  variety  of  considerations,  the  chief  of  which, 
was  the  incontestable  proof  it  would  afford  of  her  de- 
votion to  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  and  her  anxiety  for 
his  safety.  She  was  too  well  acquainted  with  his 
jealous  temperament  to  venture  the  slightest  allusion 
to  the  real  cause  of  her  agitation  on  beholding  Mr. 
Pickwick;  and  she  trusted  to  her  own  influence  and 
powrer  of  persuasion  with  the  little  man,  to  quell  his 
boisterous  jealousy,  supposing  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
were  removed,  and  no  fresh  quarrel  could  arise. 
Filled  with  these  reflections,  the  middle-aged  lady 
arrayed  herself  in  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  repaired 
to  the  Mayor's  dwelling  straightway. 

Xow  George  Nupkins,  Esquire,  the  principal 
magistrate  aforesaid,  was  as  grand  a  personage  as 
the  fastest  walker  would  find  out,  between  sunrise 
and  sunset,  on  the  twenty-first  of  June,  which  be- 
ing, according  to  the  almanacs,  the  longest  day  in 
the  whole  year,  would  naturally  afford  him  the 
longest  period  for  his  search.  On  this  particular 
morning,  Mr.  Nupkins  was  in  a  state  of  the  utmost 
excitement  and  irritation,  for  there  had  been  a  re- 
bellion in  the  town;  all  the  day-scholars  at  the  largest 
day-school  had  conspired  to  break  the  windows  of 
an  obnoxious  apple-seller,  and  had  hooted  the  beadle, 
and  pelted  the  constabulary — an  elderly  gentleman 
in  top-boots,  who  had  been  called  out  to  repress  the 
tumult,  and  who  had  been  a  peace-officer,  man  and 
boy,  for  half  a  century  at  least.  And  Mr.  Nup- 


432 

kins  was  sitting  in  his  easy  chair,  frowning  with 
majesty,  and  boiling  with  rage,  when  a  lady  was  an- 
nounced on  pressing,  private,  and  particular  busi- 
ness. Mr.  Nupkins  looked  calmly  terrible,  and  com- 
manded that  the  lady  should  be  shown  in:  which 
command,  like  all  the  mandates  of  emperors,  and  mag- 
istrates, and  other  great  potentates  of  the  earth,  was 
forthwith  obeyed;  and  Miss  Witherfield,  interest- 
ingly agitated,  was  ushered  in  accordingly. 

'Muzzle!'  said  the  magistrate. 

Muzzle  was  an  undersized  footman,  with  a  long 
body  and  short  legs. 

'Muzzle!' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

'Place  a  chair,  and  leave  the  room.' 

'Yes,  your  worship/ 

'Now,  ma'am,  will  you  state  your  business?'  said 
the  magistrate. 

'It  is  of  a  very  painful  kind,  sir,'  said  Miss  Wither- 
field. 

'Very  likely,  ma'am,'  said  the  magistrate.  'Com- 
pose your  feelings,  ma'am.'  Here  Mr.  Nupkins 
looked  benignant.  'And  then  tell  me  what  legal 
business  brings  you  here,  ma'am.'  Here  the  magis- 
trate triumphed  over  the  man;  and  he  looked  stern 
again. 

'It  is  very  distressing  to  me,  sir,  to  give  this  infor- 
mation,' said  Miss  Witherfield,  'but  I  fear  a  duel  is 
going  to  be  fought  here.' 

'Here,  ma'am?'  said  the  magistrate.  'Where, 
ma'am?' 

'In  Ipswich.' 

'In  Ipswich,  ma'am!  A  duel  in  Ipswich!'  said  the 
magistrate,  perfectly  aghast  at  the  notion.  'Impos- 
sible, ma'am;  nothing  of  the  kind  can  be  contem- 
plated in  this  town,  I  am  persuaded.  Bless  my  soul, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  433 

ma'am,  are  you  aware  of  the  activity  of  our  local 
magistracy?  Do  you  happen  to  have  heard,  ma'am, 
that  I  rushed  into  a  prize-ring  on  the  fourth  of  May 
last,  attended  by  only  sixty  special  constables;  and, 
at  the  hazard  of  falling  a  sacrifice  to  the  angry  pas- 
sions of  an  infuriated  multitude,  prohibited  a  pugil- 
istic contest  between  the  Middlesex  Dumpling  and 
the  Suffolk  Bantam?  A  duel  in  Ipswich,  ma'am! 
I  don't  think — I  do  not  think,'  said  the  magistrate, 
reasoning  with  himself,  'that  any  two  men  can  have 
had  the  hardihood  to  plan  such  a  breach  of  the  peace, 
in  this  town.' 

'My  information  is  unfortunately  but  too  correct,' 
said  the  middle-aged  lady,  'I  was  present  at  the 
quarrel.' 

'It 's  a  most  extraordinary  thing,'  said  the  as- 
tounded magistrate.  'Muzzle!' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

'Send  Mr.  Jinks  here,  directly!     Instantly.' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

Muzzle  retired;  and  a  pale,  sharp-nosed,  half- 
fed,  shabbily -clad  clerk,  of  middle-age,  entered  the 
room. 

'Mr.  Jinks,'  said  the  magistrate.     'Mr.  Jinks.' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Jinks. 

'This  lady,  Mr.  Jinks,  has  come  here,  to  give  in- 
formation of  an  intended  duel  in  this  town.' 

Mr.  Jinks,  not  knowing  exactly  what  to  do,  smiled 
a  dependent's  smile. 

'What  are  you  laughing  at,  Mr.  Jinks?'  said  the 
magistrate. 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  serious,  instantly. 

'Mr.  Jinks,'  said  the  magistrate,  'you  're  a  fool.' 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  humbly  at  the  great  man,  and 
bit  the  top  of  his  pen. 

'You  may  see  something  very  comical  in  this  in- 


434  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

formation,  sir;  but  I  can  tell  you  this,  Mr.  Jinks; 
that  you  have  very  little  to  laugh  at,'  said  the  mag- 
istrate. 

The  hungry-looking  Jinks  sighed,  as  if  he  were 
quite  aware  of  the  fact  of  his  having  very  little  in- 
deed to  be  merry  about;  and,  being  ordered  to  take 
the  lady's  information,  shambled  to  a  seat,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  write  it  down. 

'This  man,  Pickwick,  is  the  principal,  I  under- 
stand,' said  the  magistrate,  when  the  statement  was 
finished. 

'He  is/  said  the  middle-aged  lady. 

'And  the  other  rioter — what 's  his  name,  Mr. 
Jinks?' 

'Tupman,  sir.' 

'Tupman  is  the  second?' 

'Yes.' 

'The  other  principal,  you  say,  has  absconded, 
ma'am?' 

'Yes,'  replied  Miss  Witherfield,  with  a  short 
cough. 

'Very  well,'  said  the  magistrate.  'These  are  two 
cutthroats  from  London,  who  have  come  down  here 
to  destroy  his  Majesty's  population:  thinking  that 
at  this  distance  from  the  capital,  the  arm  of  the  law 
is  weak  and  paralysed.  They  shall  be  made  an  ex- 
ample of.  Draw  up  the  warrants,  Mr.  Jinks. 
Muzzlel' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

'Is  Grummer  downstairs?' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

'Send  him  up.' 

The  obsequious  Muzzle  retired,  and  presently  re- 
turned, introducing  the  elderly  gentleman  in  the  top- 
boots,  who  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  bottle-nose, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  435 

a  hoarse  voice,  a  snuff-coloured  surtout,  and  a  wan- 
dering eye. 

'Grummer,'  said  the  magistrate. 

'Your  wash-up?' 

'Is  the  town  quiet  now?' 

'Pretty  well,  your  wash-up,'  replied  Grummer. 
'Pop'lar  feeling  has  in  a  measure  subsided,  conse- 
kens  o'  the  boys  having  dispersed  to  cricket.' 

'Nothing  but  vigorous  measures  will  do  in  these 
times,  Grummer,'  said  the  magistrate,  in  a  deter- 
mined manner.  'If  the  authority  of  the  king's  of- 
ficers is  set  at  nought,  we  must  have  the  riot  act  read. 
If  the  civil  power  cannot  protect  these  windows, 
Grummer,  the  military  must  protect  the  civil  power, 
and  the  windows,  too.  I  believe  that  is  a  maxim  of 
the  constitution,  Mr.  Jinks?' 

'Certainly,  sir,'  said  Jinks. 

'Very  good,'  said  the  magistrate,  signing  the  war- 
rants. 'Grummer,  you  will  bring  these  persons  be- 
fore me,  this  afternoon.  You  will  find  them  at  the 
Great  White  Horse.  You  recollect  the  case  of  the 
Middlesex  Dumpling  and  the  Suffolk  Bantam, 
Grummer?' 

Mr.  Grummer  intimated,  by  a  retrospective  shake 
of  the  head,  that  he  should  never  forget  it — as  in- 
deed it  was  not  likely  he  would,  so  long  as  it  con- 
tinued to  be  cited  daily. 

'This  is  even  more  unconstitutional,'  said  the  mag- 
istrate; 'this  is  even  a  greater  breach  of  the  peace, 
and  a  grosser  infringement  of  his  Majesty's  pre- 
rogative. I  believe  duelling  is  one  of  his  Majesty's 
most  undoubted  prerogatives,  Mr.  Jinks?' 

'Expressly  stipulated  in  Magna  Charta,  sir,'  said 
Mr.  Jinks. 

'One  of  the  brightest  jewels  in  the  British  crown, 


436  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

wrung  from  his  Majesty  by  the  Barons,  I  believe, 
Mr.  Jinks?'  said  the  magistrate. 

'Just  so,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Jinks. 

'Very  well,'  said  the  magistrate,  drawing  himself 
up  proudly,  'it  shall  not  be  violated  in  this  portion 
of  his  dominions.  Grummer,  procure  assistance,  and 
execute  these  warrants  with  as  little  delay  as  possi- 
ble. Muzzle!' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

'Show  the  lady  out.' 

Miss  Witherfield  retired,  deeply  impressed  with 
the  magistrate's  learning  and  research;  Mr.  Nupkins 
retired  to  lunch;  Mr.  Jinks  retired  within  himself- 
that  being  the  only  retirement  he  had,  except  the 
sofa-bedstead  in  the  small  parlour  which  was  occu- 
pied by  his  landlady's  family  in  the  daytime — and 
Mr.  Grummer  retired,  to  wipe  out,  by  his  mode  of 
discharging  his  present  commission,  the  insult  which 
had  been  fastened  upon  himself,  and  the  other  repre- 
sentative of  his  Majesty — the  beadle — in  the  course 
of  the  morning. 

While  these  resolute  and  determined  preparations 
for  the  conservation  of  the  King's  peace,  were  pend- 
ing, Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  wholly  uncon- 
scious of  the  mighty  events  in  progress,  had  sat 
quietly  down  to  dinner;  and  very  talkative  and  com- 
panionable they  all  were.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  in  the 
very  act  of  relating  his  adventure  of  the  preceding 
night,  to  the  great  amusement  of  his  followers,  Mr. 
Tupman  especially,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a 
somewhat  forbidding  countenance  peeped  into  the 
room.  The  eyes  in  the  forbidding  countenance 
looked  very  earnestly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  for  several 
seconds,  and  were  to  all  appearance  satisfied  with 
their  investigation;  for  the  body  to  which  the  for- 
bidding countenance  belonged,  slowly  brought  itself 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          437 

into  the  apartment,  and  presented  the  form  of  an 
elderly  individual  in  top-boots — not  to  keep  the 
reader  any  longer  in  suspense,  in  short,  the  eyes  were 
the  wandering  eyes  of  Mr.  Grummer,  and  the  body 
was  the  body  of  the  same  gentleman. 

Mr.  Grummer's  mode  of  proceeding  was  profes- 
sional, but  peculiar.  His  first  act  was  to  bolt  the 
door  on  the  inside;  his  second,  to  polish  his  head  and 
countenance  very  carefully  with  a  cotton  handker- 
chief ;  his  third,  to  place  his  hat,  with  the  cotton  hand- 
kerchief in  it,  on  the  nearest  chair;  and  his  fourth, 
to  produce  from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat  a  short 
truncheon,  surmounted  by  a  brazen  crown,  with 
which  he  beckoned  to  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  grave  and 
ghost-like  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  was  the  first  to  break  the  aston- 
ished silence.  He  looked  steadily  at  Mr.  Grummer 
for  a  brief  space,  and  then  said  emphatically,  'This 
is  a  private  room,  sir.  A  private  room.' 

Mr.  Grummer  shook  his  head,  and  replied,  'No 
room  's  private  to  his  Majesty  when  the  street  door 's 
once  passed.  That 's  law.  Some  people  maintains 
that  an  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle.  That 's 
gammon.' 

The  Pickwickiaiis  gazed  on  each  other  with  won- 
dering eyes. 

'Which  is  Mr.  Tupman?'  inquired  Mr.  Grummer. 
He  had  an  intuitive  perception  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  he 
knew  him  at  once. 

'My  name  's  Tupman,'  said  that  gentleman. 

'My  name  's  Law,'  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

'What?'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Law,'  replied  Mr.  Grummer,  'law,  civil  power, 
and  exekative;  them  's  my  titles;  here  's  my  authority. 
Blank  Tupman,  blank  Pickvick — against  the  peace 
of  our  sufferin'  Lord  the  King — stattit  in  that  case 


A38  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

made  and  purwided — and  all  regular.     I  apprehend 
you  Pickvick!     Tupman — the  aforesaid.' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  this  insolence?'  said  Mr. 
Tupman,  starting  up:  'Leave  the  room!' 

'Halloo,'  said  Mr.  Grummer,  retreating  very  ex- 
peditiously  to  the  door,  and  opening  it  an  inch  or  two, 
'Dubbley.' 

'Well,'  said  a  deep  voice  from  the  passage. 

'Come  for'ard,  Dubbley.' 

At  the  word  of  command,  a  dirty-faced  man,  some- 
thing over  six  feet  high,  and  stout  in  proportion, 
squeezed  himself  through  the  half -open  door  (mak- 
ing his  face  very  red  in  the  process) ,  and  entered  the 
room. 

'Is  the  other  specials  outside,  Dubbley?'  inquired 
Mr.  Grummer. 

Mr.  Dubbley,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words, 
nodded  assent. 

'Order  in  the  diwision  under  your  charge,  Dub- 
bley,' said  Mr.  Grummer. 

Mr.  Dubbley  did  as  he  was  desired;  and  half  a 
dozen  men,  each  with  a  short  truncheon  and  a  brass 
crown,  flocked  into  the  room.  Mr.  Grummer  pock- 
eted his  staff,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Dubbley;  Mr.  Dub- 
bley pocketed  his  staff  and  looked  at  the  division; 
the  division  pocketed  their  staves  and  looked  at 
Messrs.  Tupman  and  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  followers  rose  as  one  man. 

'What  is  the  meaning  of  this  atrocious  intrusion 
upon  my  privacy?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Who  dares  apprehend  me?'  said  Mr.  Tupman, 

'What  do  you  want  here,  scoundrels?'  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing,  but  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Grummer,  and  bestowed  a  look  upon  him,  which,  if 
he  had  had  any  feeling,  must  have  pierced  his  brain. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  439 

As  it  was,  however,  it  had  no  visible  effect  upon  him 
whatever. 

When  the  executive  perceived  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  friends  were  disposed  to  resist  the  authority 
of  the  law,  they  very  significantly  turned  up  their 
coat  sleeves,  as  if  knocking  them  down  in  the  first  in- 
stance, and  taking  them  up  afterwards,  were  a  mere 
professional  act  which  had  only  to  be  thought  of,  to 
be  done,  as  a  matter  of  course.  This  demonstration 
was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  conferred  a 
few  moments  with  Mr.  Tupman  apart,  and  then  sig- 
nified his  readiness  to  proceed  to  the  Mayor's  resi- 
dence, merely  begging  the  parties  then  and  there  as- 
sembled, to  take  notice,  that  it  was  his  firm  intention 
to  resent  this  monstrous  invasion  of  his  privileges  as 
an  Englishman,  the  instant  he  was  at  liberty ;  whereat 
the  parties  then  and  there  assembled  laughed  very 
heartily,  with  the  single  exception  of  Mr.  Grummer, 
who  seemed  to  consider  that  any  slight  cast  upon 
the  divine  right  of  magistrates,  was  a  species  of 
blasphemy,  not  to  be  tolerated. 

But  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  signified  his  readiness 
to  bow  to  the  laws  of  his  country;  and  just  when  the 
waiters,  and  hostlers,  and  chamber-maids,  and  post- 
boys, who  had  anticipated  a  delightful  commotion 
from  his  threatened  obstinacy,  began  to  turn  away, 
disappointed  and  disgusted,  a  difficulty  arose  which 
had  not  been  foreseen.  With  every  sentiment  of 
veneration  for  the  constituted  authorities,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick resolutely  protested  against  making  his  appear- 
ance in  the  public  streets,  surrounded  and  guarded 
by  the  officers  of  justice,  like  a  common  criminal. 
Mr.  Grummer,  in  the  then  disturbed  state  of  public 
feeling  ( for  it  was  half-holiday,  and  the  boys  had  not 
yet  gone  home),  as  resolutely  protested  against  walk- 
ing on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  and  taking  Mr. 


440  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Pickwick's  parole  that  he  would  go  straight  to  the 
magistrate's;  and  both  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tup- 
man  as  strenuously  objected  to  the  expense  of  a  post- 
coach,  which  was  the  only  respectable  conveyance 
that  could  be  obtained.  The  dispute  ran  high,  and 
the  dilemma  lasted  long;  and  just  as  the  executive 
were  on  the  point  of  overcoming  Mr.  Pickwick's  ob- 
jection to  walking  to  the  magistrate's,  by  the  trite 
expedient  of  carrying  him  thither,  it  was  recollected 
that  there  stood  in  the  inn  yard,  an  old  sedan-chair, 
which  having  been  originally  built  for  a  gouty  gen- 
tleman with  funded  property,  would  hold  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Tupman,  at  least  as  conveniently  as  a 
modern  post-chaise.  The  chair  was  hired,  and 
brought  into  the  hall;  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tup- 
man squeezed  themselves  inside,  and  pulled  down  the 
blinds;  a  couple  of  chairmen  were  speedily  found; 
and  the  procession  started  in  grand  order.  The 
specials  surrounded  the  body  of  the  vehicle;  Mr. 
Grummer  and  Mr.  Dubbley  marched  triumphantly 
in  front;  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  walked 
arm-in-arm  behind;  and  the  unsoaped  of  Ipswich 
brought  up  the  rear. 

The  shopkeepers  of  the  town,  although  they  had 
a  very  indistinct  notion  of  the  nature  of  the  offence, 
could  not  but  be  much  edified  and  gratified  by  this 
spectacle.  Here  was  the  strong  arm  of  the  law, 
coming  down  with  twenty  gold-beater  force,  upon 
two  offenders  from  the  metropolis  itself;  the  mighty 
engine  was  directed  by  their  own  magistrate,  and 
worked  by  their  own  officers;  and  both  the  criminals 
by  their  united  efforts,  were  securely  shut  up,  in  the 
narrow  compass  of  one  sedan-chair.  Many  were  the 
expressions  of  approval  and  admiration  which 
greeted  Mr.  Grummer,  as  he  headed  the  cavalcade, 
staff  in  hand;  loud  and  long  were  the  shouts  raised 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  441 

by  the  unsoaped ;  and  amidst  these  united  testimonials 
of  public  approbation,  the  procession  moved  slowly 
and  majestically  along. 

Mr.  Weller,  habited  in  his  morning  jacket  with  the 
black  calico  sleeves,  was  returning  in  a  rather  de- 
sponding state  from  an  unsuccessful  survey  of  the 
mysterious  house  with  the  green  gate,  when,  raising 
his  eyes,  he  beheld  a  crowd  pouring  down  the  street, 
surrounding  an  object  which  had  very  much  the 
appearance  of  a  sedan-chair.  Willing  to  divert  his 
thoughts  from  the  failure  of  his  enterprise,  he 
stepped  aside  to  see  the  crowd  pass;  and  finding  that 
they  were  cheering  away,  very  much  to  their  own  sat- 
isfaction, forthwith  began  (by  way  of  raising  his 
spirits )  to  cheer  too,  with  all  his  might  and  main. 

Mr.  Grummer  passed,  and  Mr.  Dubbley  passed, 
and  the  sedan  passed,  and  the  body-guard  of  specials 
passed,  and  Sam  was  still  responding  to  the  enthusi- 
astic cheers  of  the  mob,  and  waving  his  hat  about  as 
if  he  were  in  the  very  last  extreme  of  the  wildest  joy 
(though,  of  course,  he  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of 
the  matter  in  hand),  when  he  was  suddenly  stopped 
by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  Mr.  Winkle  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'What's  the  row,  gen'l'm'n?'  cried  Sam.  'Who 
have  they  got  in  this  here  watch-box  in  mournin'?' 

Both  gentlemen  replied  together,  but  their  words 
were  lost  in  the  tumult. 

'Who?' 'cried  Sam  again. 

Once  more  was  a  joint  reply  returned;  and,  though 
the  words  were  inaudible,  Sam  saw  by  the  motion  of 
the  two  pairs  of  lips  that  they  had  uttered  the  magic 
word  'Pickwick.' 

This  was  enough.  In  another  minute  Mr.  Weller 
had  made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  stopped  the 
chairmen,  and  confronted  the  portly  Grummer. 


442  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Hallo,  old  genTm'n!'  said  Sam.  'Who  have  you 
got  in  this  here  conwayance  ?' 

'Stand  back,'  said  Mr.  Grummer,  whose  dignity, 
like  the  dignity  of  a  great  many  other  men,  had  been 
wondrously  augmented  by  a  little  popularity. 

'Knock  him  down,  if  he  don't,'  said  Mr.  Dubbley. 

'I  'm  wery  much  obliged  to  you,  old  genTm'n,'  re- 
plied Sam,  'for  consulting  my  conwenience,  and  I  'm 
still  more  obliged  to  the  other  genTm'n,  who  looks 
as  if  he  'd  just  escaped  from  a  giant's  carry  wan,  for 
his  wery  'ansome  suggestion;  but  I  should  prefer 
your  givin'  me  a  answer  to  my  question,  if  it's  all 
the  same  to  you. — How  are  you,  sir?'  This  last  ob- 
servation was  addressed  with  a  patronising  air  to  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  was  peeping  through  the  front 
window. 

Mr.  Grummer,  perfectly  speechless  with  indigna- 
tion, dragged  the  truncheon  with  the  brass  crown 
from  its  particular  pocket,  and  flourished  it  before 
Sam's  eyes. 

'Ah,'  said  Sam,  'it 's  wery  pretty,  'specially  the 
crown,  which  is  uncommon  like  the  real  one.' 

'Stand  back!'  said  the  outraged  Mr.  Grummer. 
By  way  of  adding  force  to  the  command,  he  thrust 
the  brass  emblem  of  royalty  into  Sam's  neckcloth 
with  one  hand,  and  seized  Sam's  collar  with  the  other: 
a  compliment  which  Mr.  Weller  returned  by  knock- 
ing him  down  out  of  hand:  having  previously,  with 
the  utmost  consideration,  knocked  down  a  chairman 
for  him  to  lie  upon. 

Whether  Mr.  Winkle  was  seized  with  a  temporary 
attack  of  that  species  of  insanity  which  originates  in 
a  sense  of  injury,  or  animated  by  this  display  of 
Mr.  Weller's  valour,  is  uncertain;  but  certain  it  is, 
that  he  no  sooner  saw  Mr.  Grummer  fall  than  he 
made  a  terrific  onslaught  on  a  small  boy  who  stood 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  443 

next  him;  whereupon  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  a  truly 
Christian  spirit,  and  in  order  that  he  might  take  no 
one  unawares,  announced  in  a  very  loud  tone  that  he 
was  going  to  begin,  and  proceeded  to  take  off  his 
coat  with  the  utmost  deliberation.  He  was  imme- 
diately surrounded  and  secured;  and  it  is  but  com- 
mon justice  both  to  him  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  say,  that 
they  did  not  make  the  slightest  attempt  to  rescue 
either  themselves  or  Mr.  Weller:  who,  after  a  most 
vigorous  resistance,  was  overpowered  by  numbers 
and  taken  prisoner.  The  procession  then  re-formed; 
the  chairmen  resumed  their  stations;  and  the  march 
was  re-commenced. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation  during  the  whole  of 
this  proceeding  was  beyond  all  bounds.  He  could 
just  see  Sam  upsetting  the  specials,  and  flying  about 
in  every  direction;  and  that  was  all  he  could  see,  for 
the  sedan-doors  wouldn't  open,  and  the  blinds 
wouldn't  pull  up.  At  length,  with  the  assistance 
of  Mr.  Tupman,  he  managed  to  push  open  the  roof; 
and  mounting  on  the  seat,  and  steadying  himself  as 
well  as  he  could,  by  placing  his  hand  on  that  gentle- 
man's shoulder,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  address 
the  multitude;  to  dwell  upon  the  unjustifiable  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  been  treated;  and  to  call  upon 
them  to  take  notice  that  his  servant  had  been  first 
assaulted.  In  this  order  they  reached  the  magis- 
trate's house;  the  chairmen  trotting,  the  prisoners 
following,  Mr.  Pickwick  oratorising,  and  the  crowd 
shouting. 


444  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  XXV 

SHOWING.,  AMONG  A  VARIETY  OF  PLEASANT  MATTERS,, 
HOW  MAJESTIC  AND  IMPARTIAL  MR.  NUPKINS  WAS; 
AND  HOW  MR.  WELLER  RETURNED  MR.  JOB  TROT- 
TER'S  SHUTTLECOCK  AS  HEAVILY  AS  IT  CAME.  WITH 
ANOTHER  MATTER,  WHICH  WILL  BE  FOUND  IN  ITS 
PLACE 

VIOLENT  was  Mr.  Waller's  indignation  as  he  was 
borne  along;  numerous  were  the  allusions  to  the  per- 
sonal appearance  and  demeanour  of  Mr.  Grummer 
and  his  companion:  and  valorous  were  the  defiances 
to  any  six  of  the  gentlemen  present:  in  which  he 
vented  his  dissatisfaction.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle  listened  with  gloomy  respect  to  the  torrent 
of  eloquence  which  their  leader  poured  forth  from 
the  sedan-chair,  and  the  rapid  course  of  which  not  all 
Mr.  Tupman's  earnest  entreaties  to  have  the  lid  of 
the  vehicle  closed,  were  able  to  check  for  an  instant. 
But  Mr.  Weller's  anger  quickly  gave  way  to 
curiosity  when  the  procession  turned  down  the  iden- 
tical court-yard  in  which  he  had  met  with  the  run- 
away Job  Trotter:  and  curiosity  was  exchanged 
for  a  feeling  of  the  most  gleeful  astonishment,  when 
the  all-important  Mr.  Grummer,  commanding  the 
sedan-bearers  to  halt,  advanced  with  dignified  and 
portentous  steps  to  the  very  green  gate  from  which 
Job  Trotter  had  emerged,  and  gave  a  mighty  pull  at 
the  bell-handle  which  hung  at  the  side  thereof.  The 
ring  was  answered  by  a  very  smart  and  pretty-faced 
servant-girl,  who,  after  holding  up  her  hands  in 
astonishment  at  the  rebellious  appearance  of  the 
prisoners,  and  the  impassioned  language  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  summoned  Mr.  Muzzle.  Mr.  Muzzle 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  445 


• 


opened  one  half  of  the  carriage  gate,  to  admit  the 
sedan,  the  captured  ones,  and  the  specials;  and  im- 
mediately slammed  it  in  the  faces  of  the  mob,  who, 
indignant  at  being  excluded,  and  anxious  to  see  what 
followed,  relieved  their  feelings  by  kicking  at  the 
gate  and  ringing  the  bell,  for  an  hour  or  two  after- 
wards. In  this  amusement  they  all  took  part  by 
turns,  except  three  or  four  fortunate  individuals, 
who,  having  discovered  a  grating  in  the  gate  which 
commanded  a  view  of  nothing,  stared  through  it 
with  the  indefatigable  perseverance  with  which  peo- 
ple will  flatten  their  noses  against  the  front  windows 
of  a  chemist's  shop,  when  a  drunken  man,  who  has 
been  run  over  by  a  dog-cart  in  the  street,  is  under- 
going a  surgical  inspection  in  the  back-parlour. 

At  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps,  leading  to  the 
house  door,  which  was  guarded  on  either  side  by  an 
American  aloe  in  a  green  tub,  the  sedan-chair  stopped. 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were  conducted  into  the 
hall,  whence,  having  been  previously  announced  by 
Muzzle,  and  ordered  in  by  Mr.  Nupkins,  they  were 
ushered  into  the  worshipful  presence  of  that  public- 
spirited  officer. 

The  scene  was  an  impressive  one,  well  calculated  to 
strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  culprits,  and  to  impress 
them  with  an  adequate  idea  of  the  stern  majesty  of 
the  law.  In  front  of  a  big  book-case,  in  a  big  chair, 
behind  a  big  table,  and  before  a  big  volume,  sat  Mr. 
Nupkins,  looking  a  full  size  larger  than  any  one  of 
them,  big  as  they  were.  The  table  was  adorned  with 
piles  of  papers:  and  above  the  further  end  of  it,  ap- 
peared the  head  and  shoulders  of  Mr.  Jinks,  who  was 
busily  engaged  in  looking  as  busy  as  possible.  The 
party  having  all  entered,  Muzzle  carefully  closed  the 
door,  and  placed  himself  behind  his  master's  chair  to 
aw^it  his  orders.  Mr.  Nupkins  threw  himself  back, 


446  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  thrilling  solemnity,  and  scrutinised  the  faces  of 
his  unwilling  visitors. 

'Now,  Grummer,  who  is  that  person?'  said  Mr. 
Nupkins,  pointing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  as  the 
spokesman  of  his  friends,  stood  hat  in  hand,  bowing 
with  the  utmost  politeness  and  respect. 

'This  here  's  Pickvick,  your  wash-up/  said  Grum- 
mer. 

'Come,  none  o'  that  'ere,  old  Strike-a-light,'  inter- 
posed Mr.  Weller,  elbowing  himself  into  the  front 
rank.  'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  this  here  officer  o' 
your'n  in  the  gambooge  tops,  'ull  never  earn  a  decent 
livin'  as  a  master  o'  the  ceremonies  any  vere.  This 
here,  sir,'  continued  Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  Grummer 
aside,  and  addressing  the  magistrate  with  pleasant 
familiarity,  'This  here  is  S.  Pickvick,  Esquire;  this 
here  's  Mr.  Tupman ;  that  'ere  's  Mr.  Snodgrass ;  and 
f urder  on,  next  him  on  the  t"  other  side,  Mr.  Winkle 
— all  wery  nice  gehTm'n,  sir,  as  you  '11  be  wery  happy 
to  have  the  acquaintance  on;  so  the  sooner  you  com- 
mits these  here  officers  o'  your'n  to  the  tread-mill  for 
a  month  or  two,  the  sooner  we  shall  begin  to  be  on  a 
pleasant  understanding.  Business  first,  pleasure 
arterwards,  as  King  Richard  the  Third  said  when  he 
stabbed  the  t'  other  king  in  the  Tower,  afore  he 
smothered  the  babbies.' 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  Mr.  Weller 
brushed  his  hat  with  his  right  elbow,  and  nodded  be- 
nignly to  Jinks,  who  had  heard  him  throughout,  with 
unspeakable  awe. 

'Who  is  this  man,  Grummer?'  said  the  magistrate. 

'Wery  desp'rate  ch'racter,  your  wash-up,'  replied 
Grummer.  'He  attempted  to  rescue  the  prisoners, 
and  assaulted  the  officers ;  so  we  took  him  into  custody, 
and  brought  him  here.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  447 

'You  did  quite  right/  replied  the  magistrate.  'He 
is  evidently  a  desperate  ruffian.' 

'He  is  my  servant,  sir/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  angrily. 

'Oh!  .he  is  your  servant,  is  he?'  said  Mr.  Xupkins. 
'A  conspiracy  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  and  mur- 
der its  officers.  Pickwick's  servant.  Put  that  down, 
Mr.  Jinks.' 

Mr.  Jinks  did  so. 

'What 's  your  name,  fellow?'  thundered  Mr.  Xup- 
kins. 

'Veller/  replied  Sam. 

'A  very  good  name  for  the  Newgate  Calendar/  said 
Mr.  Nupkins. 

This  was  a  joke;  so  Jinks,  Grummer,  Dubbley,  all 
the  specials,  and  Muzzle,  went  into  fits  of  laughter  of 
five  minutes'  duration. 

'Put  down  his  name,  Mr.  Jinks/  said  the  magistrate. 

'Two  L's,  old  feller/  said  Sam. 

Here  an  unfortunate  special  laughed  again,  where- 
upon the  magistrate  threatened  to  commit  him,  in- 
stantly. It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  laugh  at  the 
wrong  man,  in  these  cases. 

'Where  do  you  live?'  said  the  magistrate. 

'Vare-ever  I  can/  replied  Sam. 

'Put  down  that,  Mr.  Jinks/  said  the  magistrate, 
who  was  fast  rising  into  a  rage. 

'Score  it  under/  said  Sam. 

'He  is  a  vagabond,  Mr.  Jinks/  said  the  magistrate. 
'He  is  a  vagabond  on  his  own  statement;  is  he  not, 
Mr.  Jinks?' 

'Certainly,  sir.' 

'Then  I  '11  commit  him.  I  '11  commit  him  as  such/ 
said  Mr.  Nupkins. 

'This  is  a  wery  impartial  country  for  justice/  said 
Sam.  'There  ain't  a  magistrate  goin'  as  don't  com- 


448  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

mit  himself,  twice  as  often  as  he  commits  other  people.' 

At  this  sally  another  special  laughed,  and  then  tried 
to  look  so  supernaturally  solemn,  that  the  magistrate 
detected  him  immediately. 

'Grummer,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  reddening  with  pas- 
sion, 'how  dare  you  select  such  an  inefficient  and  dis- 
reputable person  for  a  special  constable,  as  that  man? 
How  dare  you  do  it,  sir  ?' 

*I  am  very  sorry,  your  wash-up,'  stammered  Grum- 
mer. 

'Very  sorry!'  said  the  furious  magistrate.  'You 
shall  repent  of  this  neglect  of  duty,  Mr.  Grummer; 
you  shall  be  made  an  example  of.  Take  that  fellow's 
staff  away.  He  's  drunk.  You  're  drunk,  fellow.' 

'I  am  not  drunk,  your  worship,'  said  the  man. 

'You  are  drunk,'  returned  the  magistrate.  'How 
dare  you  say  you  are  not  drunk,  sir,  when  I  say  you 
are?  Doesn't  he  smell  of  spirits,  Grummer?' 

'Horrid,  your  wash-up,'  replied  Grummer,  who  had 
a  vague  impression  that  there  was  a  smell  of  rum 
somewhere. 

'I  knew  he  did,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins.  'I  saw  he  was 
drunk  when  he  first  came  into  the  room,  by  his  excited 
eye.  Did  you  observe  his  excited  eye,  Mr.  Jinks?' 

'Certainly,  sir.' 

'I  haven't  touched  a  drop  of  spirits  this  morning,' 
said  the  man,  who  was  as  sober  a  fellow  as  need  be. 

'How  dare  you  tell  me  a  falsehood  ?'  said  Mr.  Nup- 
kins. 'Isn't  he  drunk  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Jinks?' 

'Certainly,  sir,'  replied  Jinks. 

'Mr.  Jinks,'  said  the  magistrate,  'I  shall  commit 
that  man,  for  contempt.  Make  out  his  committal, 
Mr.  Jinks.' 

And  committed  the  special  would  have  been,  only 
Jinks,  who  was  the  magistrate's  adviser  (having  had 
a  legal  education  of  three  years  in  a  country  attorney's 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  449 

office),  whispered  the  magistrate  that  he  thought  it 
wouldn't  do;  so  the  magistrate  made  a  speech,  and 
said,  that  in  consideration  of  the  special's  family,  he 
would  merely  reprimand  and  discharge  him.  Accord- 
ingly, the  special  was  abused,  vehemently,  for  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour,  and  sent  about  his  business:  and 
Gmmmer,  Dubbley,  Muzzle,  and  all  the  other  specials 
murmured  their  admiration  of  the  magnanimity  of 
Mr.  Nupkins. 

'Now,  Mr.  Jinks,'  said  the  magistrate,  'swear 
Grummer.' 

Grummer  was  sworn  directly;  but  as  Grummer 
wandered,  and  Mr.  Nupkins's  dinner  was  nearly 
read}r,  Mr.  Nupkins  cut  the  matter  short,  by  putting 
leading  questions  to  Grummer,  which  Grummer  an- 
swered as  nearly  in  the  affirmative  as  he  could.  So 
the  examination  went  off,  all  very  smooth  and  com- 
fortable, and  two  assaults  were  proved  against  Mr. 
Weller,  and  a  threat  against  Mr.  Winkle,  and  a  push 
against  Mr.  Snodgrass.  When  all  this  was  done  to 
the  magistrate's  satisfaction,  the  magistrate  and  Mr. 
Jinks  consulted  in  whispers. 

The  consultation  having  lasted  about  ten  minutes, 
Mr.  Jinks  retired  to  his  end  of  the  table;  and  the 
magistrate,  with  a  preparatory  cough,  drew  himself 
up  in  his  chair,  and  was  proceeding  to  commence  his 
address,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  interposed. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  interrupting  you,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick;  'but  before  you  proceed  to  express, 
and  act  upon,  any  opinion  you  may  have  formed  on 
the  statements  which  have  been  made  here,  I  must 
claim  my  right  to  be  heard,  so  far  as  I  am  personally 
concerned.' 

'Hold  your  tongue,  sir,'  said  the  magistrate,  per- 
emptorily. 

'I  must  submit  to  you,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


450  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Hold  your  tongue,  sir,'  interposed  the  magistrate, 
'or  I  shall  order  an  officer  to  remove  you.' 

'You  may  order  your  officers  to  do  whatever  you 
please,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'and  I  have  no  doubt, 
from  the  specimen  I  have  had  of  the  subordination 
preserved  amongst  them,  that  whatever  you  order, 
they  will  execute,  sir ;  but  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  sir, 
of  claiming  my  right  to  be  heard,  until  I  am  removed 
by  force.' 

'Pickvick  and  principle!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  in 
a  very  audible  voice. 

'Sam,  be  quiet,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Dumb  as  a  drum  vith  a  hole  in  it,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Nupkins  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  gaze 
of  intense  astonishment,  at  his  displaying  such  un- 
wonted temerity ;  and  was  apparently  about  to  return 
a  very  angry  reply,  when  Mr.  Jinks  pulled  him  by 
the  sleeve,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  To 
this,  the  magistrate  returned  a  half -audible  answer, 
and  then  the  whispering  was  renewed.  Jinks  was 
evidently  remonstrating. 

At  length  the  magistrate,  gulping  down,  with  a 
very  bad  grace,  his  disinclination  to  hear  anything 
more,  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said  sharply, 
'What  do  you  want  to  say?' 

'First,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sending  a  look  through 
his  spectacles,  under  which  even  Nupkins  quailed. 
'First,  I  wish  to  know  what  I  and  my  friend  have  been 
brought  here  for  ?' 

'Must  I  tell  him?'  whispered  the  magistrate  to 
Jinks. 

'I  think  you  had  better,  sir,'  whispered  Jinks  to 
the  magistrate. 

'An  information  has  been  sworn  before  me,'  said 
the  magistrate,  'that  it  is  apprehended  you  are  going 
to  fight  a  duel,  and  that  the  other  man,  Tupman,  is 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  451 

your  aider  and  abettor  in  it.  Therefore — eh,  Mr. 
Jinks?' 

'Certainly,  sir.' 

'Therefore,  I  call  upon  you  both,  to — I  think  that 's 
the  course,  Mr.  Jinks  ?' 

'Certainly,  sir.' 

'To — to — what,  Mr.  Jinks?'  said  the  magistrate, 
pettishly. 

'To  find  bail,  sir.' 

'Yes.  Therefore,  I  call  upon  you  both — as  I  was 
about  to  say,  when  I  was  interrupted  by  my  clerk — to 
find  bail.' 

'Good  bail,'  whispered  Mr.  Jinks. 

'I  shall  require  good  bail,'  said  the  magistrate. 

'Town's-people,'  whispered  Jinks. 

'They  must  be  town's-people,'  said  the  magistrate. 

'Fifty  pounds  each,'  whispered  Jinks,  'and  house- 
holders, of  course.' 

'I  shall  require  two  sureties  of  fifty  pounds  each,' 
said  the  magistrate  aloud,  with  great  dignity,  'and 
they  must  be  householders,  of  course.' 

'But,  bless  my  heart,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who, 
together  with  Mr.  Tupman,  was  all  amazement  and 
indignation;  'we  are  perfect  strangers  in  this  town. 
I  have  as  little  knowledge  of  any  householders  here, 
as  I  have  intention  of  fighting  a  duel  with  anybody.' 

'I  dare  say,'  replied  the  magistrate,  'I  dare  say — 
don't  you,  Mr.  Jinks?' 

'Certainly,  sir.' 

'Have  you  anything  more  to  say?'  inquired  the 
magistrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say,  which 
he  would  no  doubt  have  said,  very  little  to  his  own 
advantage,  or  the  magistrate's  satisfaction,  if  he  had 
not,  the  moment  he  ceased  speaking,  been  pulled  by 
the  sleeve  by  Mr.  Weller,  with  whom  he  was  imme- 


452  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

diately  engaged  in  so  earnest  a  conversation,  that  he 
suffered  the  magistrate's  inquiry  to  pass  wholly  un- 
noticed. Mr.  Nupkins  was  not  the  man  to  ask  a 
question  of  the  kind  twice  over;  and  so,  writh  another 
preparatory  cough,  he  proceeded,  amidst  the  rev- 
erential and  admiring  silence  of  the  constables,  to 
pronounce  his  decision. 

He  should  fine  Weller  two  pounds  for  the  first  as- 
sault, and  three  pounds  for  the  second.  He  should 
fine  Winkle  two  pounds,  and  Snodgrass  one  pound, 
besides  requiring  them  to  enter  into  their  own  recog- 
nisances to  keep  the  peace  towards  all  his  Majesty's 
subjects,  and  especially  towards  his  liege  servant, 
Daniel  Grummer.  Pickwick  and  Tupman  he  had 
already  held  to  bail. 

Immediately  on  the  magistrate  ceasing  to  speak, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile  mantling  on  his  again 
good-humoured  countenance,  stepped  forward,  and 
said — 

'I  beg  the  magistrate's  pardon,  but  may  I  request 
a  few  minutes'  private  conversation  with  him,  on  a 
matter  of  deep  importance  to  himself?' 

'What  ?'  said  the  magistrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  repeated  his  request. 

'This  is  a  most  extraordinary  request,'  said  the 
magistrate.  'A  private  interview?' 

'A  private  interview/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly ; 
'only,  as  a  part  of  the  information  which  I  wish  to 
communicate  is  derived  from  my  servant,  I  should 
wish  him  to  be  present.' 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Jinks;  Mr.  Jinks 
looked  at  the  magistrate;  the  officers  looked  at  each 
other  in  amazement.  Mr.  Nupkins  turned  suddenly 
pale.  Could  the  man  Weller,  in  a  moment  of  re- 
morse, have  divulged  some  secret  conspiracy  for  his 
assassination?  It  was  a  dreadful  thought.  He  was 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  453 

a  public  man :  and  he  turned  paler,  as  he  thought  of 
Julius  Cassar  and  Mr.  Perceval. 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  and 
beckoned  Mr.  Jinks. 

'What  do  you  think  of  this  request,  Mr.  Jinks?' 
murmured  Mr.  Nupkins. 

Mr.  Jinks,  who  didn't  exactly  know  what  to  think 
of  it,  and  was  afraid  he  might  offend,  smiled  feebly, 
after  a  dubious  fashion,  and,  screwing  up  the  corners 
of  his  mouth,  shook  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side. 

'Mr.  Jinks,'  said  the  magistrate,  gravely,  'you  are 
an  assi' 

At  this  little  expression  of  opinion,  Mr.  Jinks 
smiled  again — rather  more  feebly  than  before — and 
edged  himself  by  degrees,  back  into  his  own  corner. 

Mr.  Nupkins  debated  the  matter  within  himself  for 
a  few  seconds,  and  then,  rising  from  his  chair,  and 
requesting  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  to  follow  him,  led 
the  way  into  a  small  room  which  opened  into  the 
justice  parlour.  Desiring  Mr.  Pickwick  to  walk  to 
the  upper  end  of  the  little  apartment,  and  holding 
his  hand  upon  the  half-closed  door,  that  he  might  be 
able  to  effect  an  immediate  escape,  in  case  there  was 
the  least  tendency  to  a  display  of  hostilities,  Mr.  Nup- 
kins expressed  his  readiness  to  hear  the  communica- 
tion, whatever  it  might  be. 

'I  will  come  to  the  point  at  once,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; 'it  affects  yourself,  and  your  credit,  materially. 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  sir,  that  you  are  har- 
bouring in  your  house,  a  gross  impostor !' 

'Two,'  interrupted  Sam.  'Mulberry  agin  all  natur, 
for  tears  and  willainny!' 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'if  I  am  to  render  my- 
self intelligible  to  this  gentleman,  I  must  beg  you  to 
control  your  feelings.' 

'Wery  sorry,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'but  when 


454  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

I  think  o'  that  'ere  Job,  I  can't  help  opening  the 
waive  a  inch  or  two.' 

'In  one  word,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'is  my  serv- 
ant right  in  suspecting  that  a  certain  Captain  Fitz- 
Marshall  is  in  the  habit  of  visiting  here?  Because,' 
added  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  saw  that  Mr.  Nupkins 
was  about  to  offer  a  very  indignant  interruption, 
'because,  if  he  be,  I  know  that  person  to  be  a — ' 

'Hush,  hush,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  closing  the  door. 
'Know  him  to  be  what,  sir?' 

'An  unprincipled  adventurer — a  dishonourable  char- 
acter— a  man  who  preys  upon  society,  and  "makes 
easily-deceived  people  his  dupes,  sir;  his  absurd,  his 
foolish,  his  wretched  dupes,  sir,'  said  the  excited  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Dear  me,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  turning  very  red, 
and  altering  his  whole  manner  directly.  'Dear  me, 
Mr. ' 

'Pickvick,'  said  Sam. 

'Pickwick,'  said  the  magistrate,  'dear  me,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick— pray  take  a  seat — you  cannot  mean  this?  Cap- 
tain Fitz-Marshall?' 

'Don't  call  him  a  cap'en,'  said  Sam,  'nor  Fitz- 
Marshall  neither;  he  ain't  neither  one  nor  t'  other. 
He  's  a  strolling  actor,  he  is,  and  his  name  's  Jingle; 
and  if  ever  there  was  a  wolf  in  a  mulberry  suit,  that 
'ere  Job  Trotter  's  him.' 

'It  is  very  true,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  replying  to 
the  magistrate's  look  of  amazement ;  'my  only  business 
in  this  town,  is  to  expose  the  person  of  whom  we  now 
speak.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  pour  into  the  horror- 
stricken  ear  of  Mr.  Nupkins,  an  abridged  account 
of  Mr.  Jingle's  atrocities.  He  related  how  he  had 
first  met  him;  how  he  had  eloped  with  Miss  Wardle; 
how  he  had  cheerfully  resigned  the  lady  for  a  pe- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  455 

cuniary  consideration ;  how  he  had  entrapped  himself 
into  a  lady's  boarding-school  at  midnight;  and  how 
he  (Mr.  Pickwick)  now  felt  it  his  duty  to  expose  his 
assumption  of  his  present  name  and  rank. 

As  the  narrative  proceeded,  all  the  warm  blood  in 
the  body  of  Mr.  Nupkins  tingled  up  into  the  very 
tips  of  his  ears.  He  had  picked  up  the  captain  at 
a  neighbouring  race-course.  Charmed  with  his  long 
list  of  aristocratic  acquaintance,  his  extensive  travel, 
and  his  fashionable  demeanour,  Mrs.  Nupkins  and 
Miss  Xupkins  had  exhibited  Captain  Fitz-Marshall, 
and  quoted  Captain  Fitz-Marshall,  and  hurled  Cap- 
tain Fitz-Marshall  at  the  devoted  heads  of  their  select 
circle  of  acquaintance,  until  their  bosom  friends,  Mrs. 
Porkenham  and  the  Miss  Porkenhams,  and  Mr.  Sid- 
ney Porkenham,  were  ready  to  burst  with  jealousy 
and  despair.  And  now,  to  hear,  after  all,  that  he 
was  a  needy  adventurer,  a  strolling  player,  and  if 
not  a  swindler,  something  so  very  like  it,  that  it  was 
hard  to  tell  the  difference!  Heavens!  What  would 
the  Porkenhams  say!  What  would  be  the  triumph 
of  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham  when  he  found  that  his 
addresses  had  been  slighted  for  such  a  rival!  How 
should  he,  Nupkins,  meet  the  eye  of  old  Porkenham 
at  the  next  Quarter  Sessions!  And  what  a  handle 
would  it  be  for  the  opposition  magisterial  party,  if 
the  story  got  abroad! 

'But  after  all,'  said  Mr.  Xupkins,  brightening  for 
a  moment,  after  a  long  pause;  'after  all,  this  is  a 
mere  statement.  Captain  Fitz-Marshall  is  a  man  of 
very  engaging  manners,  and,  I  dare  say,  has  many 
enemies.  What  proof  have  you  of  the  truth  of  these 
representations  ?' 

'Confront  me  with  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  is 
all  I  ask,  and  all  I  require.  Confront  him  with  me 
and  my  friends  here:  you  will  want  no  further  proof.' 


456  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Why,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  'that  might  be  very 
easily  done,  for  he  will  be  here  to-night,  and  then 
there  would  be  no  occasion  to  make  the  matter  public, 
just — just — for  the  young  man's  own  sake,  you 
know.  I — I — should  like  to  consult  Mrs.  Nupkins 
on  the  propriety  of  the  step,  in  the  first  instance, 
though.  At  all  events,  Mr.  Pickwick,  we  must  de- 
spatch this  legal  business  before  we  can  do  anything 
else.  Pray  step  into  the  next  room.' 

Into  the  next  room  they  went. 

'Grummer,'  said  the  magistrate,  in  an  awful  voice. 

'Your  wash-up,'  replied  Grummer,  with  the  smile 
of  a  favourite. 

'Come,  come,  sir,'  said  the  magistrate,  sternly, 
'don't  let  me  see  any  of  this  levity  here.  It  is  very 
unbecoming,  and  I  can  assure  you  that  you  have 
very  little  to  smile  at.  Was  the  account  you  gave 
me  just  now  strictly  true?  Now  be  careful,  sir.' 

'Your  wash-up,'  stammered  Grummer,  'I— 

'Oh,  you  are  confused,  are  you?'  said  the  magistrate. 
'Mr.  Jinks,  you  observe  this  confusion?' 

'Certainly,  sir,'  replied  Jinks. 

'Now/  said  the  magistrate,  'repeat  your  statement, 
Grummer,  and  again  I  warn  you  to  be  careful.  Mr. 
Jinks,  take  his  words  down.' 

The  unfortunate  Grummer  proceeded  to  re-state 
his  complaint,  but,  what  between  Mr.  Jinks's  taking 
down  his  words,  and  the  magistrate's  taking  them  up; 
his  natural  tendency  to  rambling,  and  his  extreme 
confusion;  he  managed  to  get  involved,  in  something 
under  three  minutes,  in  such  a  mass  of  entanglement 
and  contradiction,  that  Mr.  Nupkins  at  once  declared 
he  didn't  believe  him.  So  the  fines  were  remitted, 
and  Mr.  Jinks  found  a  couple  of  bail  in  no  time. 
And  all  these  solemn  proceedings  having  been  satis- 
factorily concluded,  Mr.  Grummer  was  ignomini- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  457 

ously  ordered  out — an  awful  instance  of  the  insta- 
bility of  human  greatness,  and  the  uncertain  tenure 
of  great  men's  favour. 

Mrs.  Nupkins  was  a  majestic  female  in  a  pink 
gauze  turban  and  a  light  brown  wig.  Miss  Nup- 
kins possessed  all  her  mamma's  haughtiness  without 
the  turban,  and  all  her  ill-nature  without  the  wig; 
and  whenever  the  exercise  of  these  two  amiable  quali- 
ties involved  mother  and  daughter  in  some  unpleasant 
dilemma,  as  they  not  unfrequently  did,  they  both 
concurred  in  laying  the  blame  on  the  shoulders  of 
Mr.  Nupkins.  Accordingly,  when  Mr.  Nupkins 
sought  Mrs.  Nupkins,  and  detailed  the  communica- 
tion which  had  been  made  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mrs. 
Nupkins  suddenly  recollected  that  she  had  always  ex- 
pected something  of  the  kind;  that  she  had  always 
said  it  would  be  so;  that  her  advice  was  never  taken; 
that  she  really  did  not  know  what  Mr.  Nupkins  sup- 
posed she  was ;  and  so  forth. 

'The  idea!'  said  Miss  Nupkins,  forcing  a  tear  of 
very  scanty  proportions  into  the  corner  of  each  eye; 
'the  idea  of  my  being  made  such  a  fool  of!' 

'Ah!  you  may  thank  your  papa,  my  dear,'  said 
Mrs.  Nupkins;  'how  have  I  implored  and  begged 
that  man  to  inquire  into  the  Captain's  family  con- 
nections ;  how  have  I  urged  and  entreated  him  to  take 
some  decisive  step !  I  am  quite  certain  nobody  would 
believe  it — quite.' 

'But,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins. 

'Don't  talk  to  me,  you  aggravating  thing,  don't!' 
said  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

'My  love,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  'you  professed  your- 
self very  fond  of  Captain  Fitz-Marshall.  You  have 
constantly  asked  him  here,  my  dear,  and  you  have 
lost  no  opportunity  of  introducing  him  elsewhere.' 

'Didn't  I  say  so,  Henrietta?'  cried  Mrs.  Nupkins, 


458  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

appealing  to  her  daughter,  with  the  air  of  a  much- 
injured  female.  'Didn't  I  say  that  your  papa  would 
turn  round  and  lay  all  this  at  my  door?  Didn't  I  say 
so?'  Here  Mrs.  Nupkins  sobbed. 

'Oh  pa!'  remonstrated  Miss  Nupkins.  And  here 
she  sobbed  too. 

'Isn't  it  too  much,  when  he  has  brought  all  this  dis- 
grace and  ridicule  upon  us,  to  taunt  me  with  being 
the  cause  of  it?'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

'How  can  we  ever  show  ourselves  in  society!'  said 
Miss  Nupkins. 

'How  can  we  face  the  Porkenhams !'  cried  Mrs. 
Nupkins. 

'Or  the  Griggs's!'  cried  Miss  Nupkins. 

'Or  the  Slummintowkens !'  cried  Mrs.  Nupkins. 
'But  what  does  your  papa  care !  What  is  it  to  him? 
At  this  dreadful  reflection,  Mrs.  Nupkins  wept  with 
mental  anguish,  and  Miss  Nupkins  followed  on  the 
same  side. 

Mrs.  Nupkins's  tears  continued  to  gush  forth,  with 
great  velocity,  until  she  had  gained  a  little  time  to 
think  the  matter  over:  when  she  decided,  in  her  own 
mind,  that  the  best  thing  to  do  would  be  to  ask  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends  to  remain  until  the  Cap- 
tain's arrival,  and  then  to  give  Mr.  Pickwick  the 
opportunity  he  sought.  If  it  appeared  that  he  had 
spoken  truly,  the  Captain  could  be  turned  out  of  the 
house  without  noising  the  matter  abroad,  and  they 
could  easily  account  to  the  Porkenhams  for  his  dis- 
appearance, by  saying  that  he  had  been  appointed, 
through  the  Court  influence  of  his  family,  to  the 
Governor-Generalship  of  Sierra  Leone,  or  Saugur 
Point,  or  any  other  of  those  salubrious  climates  which 
enchant  Europeans  so  much  that,  when  they  once  get 
there,  they  can  hardly  ever  prevail  upon  themselves 
to  come  back  again. 


459 

When  Mrs.  Nupkins  dried  up  her  tears,  Miss  Nup- 
kins  dried  up  hers,  and  Mr.  Nupkins  was  very  glad 
to  settle  the  matter  as  Mrs.  Nupkins  had  proposed. 
So  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  having  washed 
off  all  marks  of  their  late  encounter,  were  introduced 
to  the  ladies,  and  soon  afterwards  to  their  dinner; 
and  Mr.  Weller,  whom  the  magistrate  with  his  pecul- 
iar sagacity  had  discovered  in  half  an  hour  to  be  one 
of  the  finest  fellows  alive,  was  consigned  to  the  care 
and  guardianship  of  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  was  specially 
enjoined  to  take  him  below,  and  make  much  of  him. 

'How  de  do,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  as  he  conducted 
Mr.  Weller  down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

'Why,  no  con-siderable  change  has  taken  place  in 
the  state  of  my  system,  since  I  see  you  cocked  up 
behind  your  governor's  chair  in  the  parlour,  a  little 
vile  ago,'  replied  Sam. 

'You  will  excuse  my  not  taking  more  notice  of  you 
then,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle.  'You  see,  master  hadn't  in- 
troduced us,  then.  Lord,  how  fond  he  is  of  you, 
Mr.  Weller,  to  be  sure !' 

'Ah/  said  Sam,  'what  a  pleasant  chap  he  isl' 

'Ain't  he?'  replied  Mr.  Muzzle. 

'So  much  humour,'  said  Sam. 

'And  such  a  man  to  speak,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 
'How  his  ideas  flow,  don't  they?' 

'Wonderful,'  replied  Sam;  'they  comes  a  pouring 
out,  knocking  each  other's  heads  so  fast,  that  they 
seems  to  stun  one  another;  you  hardly  know  what 
he  's  arter,  do  you?' 

'That 's  the  great  merit  of  his  style  of  speaking,' 
rejoined  Mr.  Muzzle.  'Take  care  of  the  last  step, 
Mr.  Weller.  Would  you  like  to  wash  your  hands, 
sir,  before  we  join  the  ladies?  Here  's  a  sink,  with 
the  water  laid  on,  sir,  and  a  clean  jack  towel  behind 
the  door.' 


460  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Ah!  perhaps  I  may  as  well  have  a  rinse,'  replied 
Mr.  Weller,  applying  plenty  of  yellow  soap  to  the 
towel,  and  rubbing  away,  till  his  face  shone  again. 
'How  many  ladies  are  there?' 

'Only  two  in  our  kitchen,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  'cook 
and  'ousemaid.  We  keep  a  boy  to  do  the  dirty  work, 
and  a  gal  besides,  but  they  dine  in  the  washus.' 

'Oh,  they  dines  in  the  washus,  do  they?'  said  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Yes,'  replied  Mr.  Muzzle,  'we  tried  'em  at  our 
table  when  they  first  come,  but  we  couldn't  keep  'em. 
The  gal's  manners  is  dreadful  vulgar;  and  the  boy 
breathes  so  very  hard  while  he 's  eating,  that  we 
found  it  impossible  to  sit  at  table  with  him.' 

'Young  grampus!'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Oh,  dreadful,'  rejoined  Mr.  Muzzle;  'but  that  is 
the  worst  of  country  service,  Mr.  Weller;  the  juniors 
is  always  so  very  savage.  This  way,  sir,  if  you  please ; 
this  way.' 

Preceding  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  utmost  politeness, 
Mr.  Muzzle  conducted  him  into  the  kitchen. 

'Mary,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle  to  the  pretty  servant-girl, 
'this  is  Mr.  Weller:  a  gentleman  as  master  has  sent 
down,  to  be  made  as  comfortable  as  possible.' 

'And  your  master  's  a  knowin'  hand,  and  has  just 
sent  me  to  the  right  place,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a 
glance  of  admiration  at  Mary.  'If  I  wos  master  o' 
this  here  house,  I  should  always  find  the  materials 
for  comfort  vere  Mary  was.' 

'Lor,  Mr.  Weller!'  said  Mary,  blushing. 

'Well,  I  never!'  ejaculated  the  cook. 

'Bless  me,  cook,  I  forgot  you,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 
'Mr.  Weller,  let  me  introduce  you.' 

'How  are  you,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Wery 
glad  to  see  you,  indeed,  and  hope  our  acquaintance 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  461 

may  be  a  long  'un,  as  the  gen'l'm'n  said  to  the  fi'  pun' 
note.' 

When  this  ceremony  of  introduction  had  been  gone 
through,  the  cook  and  Mary  retired  into  the  back 
kitchen  to  titter  for  ten  minutes;  then  returning,  all 
giggles  and  blushes,  they  sat  down  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Weller's  easy  manners  and  conversational 
powers  had  such  irresistible  influence  with  his  new 
friends,  that  before  the  dinner  was  half  over,  they 
were  on  a  footing  of  perfect  intimacy,  and  in  posses- 
sion of  a  full  account  of  the  delinquency  of  Job 
Trotter. 

'I  never  could  a-bear  that  Job,'  said  Mary. 

'No  more  you  never  ought  to,  my  dear,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Why  not?'  inquired  Mary. 

'  'Cos  ugliness  and  svindlin'  never  ought  to  be  for- 
miliar  vith  elegance  and  wirtew,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 
'Ought  they,  Mr.  Muzzle?' 

'Not  by  no  means,'  replied  that  gentleman. 

Here  Mary  laughed,  and  said  the  cook  had  made 
her ;  and  the  cook  laughed,  and  said  she  hadn't. 

'I  han't  got  a  glass,'  said  Mary. 

'Drink  with  me,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Put 
your  lips  to  this  here  tumbler,  and  then  I  can  kiss  you 
by  deputy.' 

Tor  shame,  Mr.  Weller!'  said  Mary. 

'What 's  a  shame,  my  dear?' 

'Talkin'  in  that  way.' 

'Nonsense;  it  ain't  no  harm.  It's  natur';  ain't  it, 
cook?' 

'Don't  ask  me,  imperence,'  replied  the  cook,  in  a 
high  state  of  delight:  and  hereupon  the  cook  and 
Mary  laughed  again,  till  what  between  the  beer,  and 
the  cold  meat,  and  the  laughter  combined,  the  latter 


462  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

young  lady  was  brought  to  the  verge  of  choking— 
an  alarming  crisis  from  which  she  was  only  recovered 
by  sundry  pats  on  the  back,  and  other  necessary  at- 
tentions, most  delicately  administered  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  jollity  and  conviviality,  a 
loud  ring  was  heard  at  the  garden-gate :  to  which  the 
young  gentleman  who  took  his  meals  in  the  wash- 
house,  immediately  responded.  Mr.  Weller  was  in 
the  height  of  his  attentions  to  the  pretty  housemaid; 
Mr.  Muzzle  was  busy  doing  the  honours  of  the  table ; 
and  the  cook  had  just  paused  to  laugh,  in  the  very 
act  of  raising  a  huge  morsel  to  her  lips;  when  the 
kitchen-door  opened,  and  in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter. 

We  have  said  in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  but  the 
statement  is  not  distinguished  by  our  usual  scrupu- 
lous adherence  to  fact.  The  door  opened,  and  Mr. 
Trotter  appeared.  He  would  have  walked  in,  and 
was  in  the  very  act  of  doing  so,  indeed,  when  catching 
sight  of  Mr.  Weller,  he  involuntarily  shrank  back  a 
pace  or  two,  and  stood  gazing  on  the  unexpected 
scene  before  him,  perfectly  motionless  with  amaze- 
ment and  terror. 

'Here  he  is!'  said  Sam,  rising  with  great  glee. 
'Why,  we  were  that  wery  moment  a  speaking  o'  you. 
How  are  you?  Where  have  you  been?  Come  in.' 

Laying  his  hand  on  the  mulberry  collar  of  the  un- 
resisting Job,  Mr.  Weller  dragged  him  into  the 
kitchen;  and,  locking  the  door,  handed  the  key  to 
Mr.  Muzzle,  who  very  coolly  buttoned  it  up  in  a  side- 
pocket. 

'Well,  here  's  a  game !'  cried  Sam.  'Only  think  o' 
my  master  havin'  the  pleasure  o'  meeting  your'n, 
upstairs,  and  me  havin'  the  joy  o'  meetin'  you  down 
here.  How  are  you  gettin'  on,  and  how  is  the  chand- 
lery bis'ness  likely  to  do?  Well,  I  am  so  glad  to  see 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  463 

you.  How  happy  you  look.  It 's  quite  a  treat  to 
see  you;  ain't  it,  Mr.  Muzzle?' 

'Quite,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 

'So  cheerful  he  is!'  said  Sam. 

'In  such  good  spirits!'  said  Muzzle. 

'And  so  glad  to  see  us — that  makes  it  so  much  more 
comfortable,'  said  Sam.  'Sit  down;  sit  down.' 

Mr.  Trotter  suffered  himself  to  be  forced  into  a 
chair  by  the  fireside.  He  cast  his  small  eyes,  first  on 
Mr.  Weller,  and  then  on  Mr.  Muzzle,  but  said 
nothing. 

'Well,  now,'  said  Sam,  'afore  these  here  ladies,  I 
should  jest  like  to  ask  you,  as  a  sort  of  curiosity, 
whether  you  don't  con-sider  yourself  as  nice  and  well- 
behaved  a  young  gen'l'm'n,  as  ever  used  a  pink  check 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  the  number  four  collection  ?' 

'And  as  was  ever  a-going  to  be  married  to  a  cook?' 
said  that  lady,  indignantly.  'The  willin !' 

'And  leave  off  his  evil  ways,  and  set  up  in  the 
chandlery  line,  arterwards,'  said  the  housemaid. 

'Now,  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  man,'  said 
Mr.  Muzzle,  solemnly,  enraged  at  the  last  two  allu- 
sions, 'this  here  lady  (pointing  to  the  cook)  keeps 
company  with  me ;  and  when  you  presume,  sir,  to  talk 
of  keeping  chandlers'  shops  with  her,  you  injure  me 
in  one  of  the  most  delicatest  points  in  which  one  man 
can  injure  another.  Do  you  understand  me,  sir?' 

Here  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  had  a  great  notion  of  his 
eloquence,  in  which  he  imitated  his  master,  paused  for 
a  reply. 

But  Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply.  So  Mr.  Muzzle 
proceeded  in  a  solemn  manner — 

'It 's  very  probable,  sir,  that  you  won't  be  wanted 
upstairs  for  several  minutes,  sir,  because  my  master  is 
at  this  moment  particularly  engaged  in  settling  the 
hash  of  your  master,  sir;  and  therefore  you'll  have 


464  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

leisure,  sir,  for  a  little  private  talk  with  me,  sir.  Do 
you  understand  me,  sir?' 

Mr.  Muzzle  again  paused  for  a  reply,  and  again 
Mr.  Trotter  disappointed  him. 

'Well,  then,'  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  'I  'm  very  sorry  to 
have  to  explain  myself  before  ladies,  but  the  urgency 
of  the  case  will  be  my  excuse.  The  back  kitchen  's 
empty,  sir.  If  you  will  step  in  there,  sir,  Mr.  Weller 
will  see  fair,  and  we  can  have  mutual  satisfaction 
till  the  bell  rings.  Follow  me,  sir!' 

As  Mr.  Muzzle  uttered  these  words,  he  took  a  step 
or  two  towards  the  door;  and  by  way  of  saving  time, 
began  to  pull  off  his  coat  as  he  walked  along. 

Now,  the  cook  no  sooner  heard  the  concluding  words 
of  this  desperate  challenge,  and  saw  Mr.  Muzzle  about 
to  put  it  into  execution,  than  she  uttered  a  loud  and 
piercing  shriek,  and  rushing  on  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  who 
rose  from  his  chair  on  the  instant,  tore  and  buffeted 
his  large  flat  face,  with  an  energy  peculiar  to  excited 
females,  and  twining  her  hands  in  his  long  black  hair, 
tore  therefrom  about  enough  to  make  five  or  six 
dozen  of  the  very  largest-sized  mourning-rings. 
Having  accomplished  this  feat  with  all  the  ardour 
which  her  devoted  love  for  Mr.  Muzzle  inspired,  she 
staggered  back;  and  being  a  lady  of  very  excitable 
and  delicate  feelings,  she  instantly  fell  under  the 
dresser,  and  fainted  away. 

At  this  moment,  the  bell  rang. 

'That 's  for  you,  Job  Trotter,'  said  Sam;  and  before 
Mr.  Trotter  could  offer  remonstrance  or  reply — even 
before  he  had  time  to  stanch  the  wounds  inflicted  by 
the  insensible  lady — Sam  seized  one  arm  and  Mr. 
Muzzle  the  other;  and  one  pulling  before,  and  the 
other  pushing  behind,  they  conveyed  him  upstairs, 
and  into  the  parlour. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  465 

It  was  an  impressive  tableau.  Alfred  Jingle,  Es- 
quire, alias  Captain  Fitz-Marshall,  was  standing  near 
the  door  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  a  smile  on  his 
face,  wholly  unmoved  by  his  very  unpleasant  situa- 
tion. Confronting  him,  stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  who 
had  evidently  been  inculcating  some  high  moral  les- 
son; for  his  left  hand  was  beneath  his  coat  tail,  and 
his  right  extended  in  air,  as  was  his  wont  when  de- 
livering himself  of  an  impressive  address.  At  a 
little  distance,  stood  Mr.  Tupman  with  indignant 
countenance,  carefully  held  back  by  his  two  younger 
friends;  at  the  further  end  of  the  room  were  Mr. 
Nupkins,  Mrs.  Nupkins,  and  Miss  Nupkins,  gloomily 
grand,  and  savagely  vexed. 

'What  prevents  me,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  with  mag- 
isterial dignity,  as  Job  was  brought  in:  'what  pre- 
vents me  from  detaining  these  men  as  rogues  and 
impostors?  It  is  a  foolish  mercy.  What  prevents 
me?' 

'Pride,  old  fellow,  pride/  replied  Jingle,  quite  at 
his  ease.  'Wouldn't  do — no  go — caught  a  captain, 
eh? — ha!  ha!  very  good — husband  for  daughter- 
biter  bit — make  it  public — not  for  worlds — look 
stupid — very !' 

'Wretch,'  said  Mrs.  Nupkins,  'we  scorn  your  base 
insinuations.' 

'I  always  hated  him,'  added  Henrietta. 

'Oh,  of  course,'  said  Jingle.     'Tall  young  man- 
old  lover — Sidney   Porkenham — rich — fine   fellow— 
not  so  rich  as  captain,  though? — turn  him  away — off 
with  him — anything  for  captain — nothing  like  cap- 
tain anywhere — all  the  girls — raving  mad — eh,  Job?' 

Here  Mr.  Jingle  laughed  very  heartily;  and  Job, 
rubbing  his  hands  with  delight,  uttered  the  first 
sound  he  had  given  vent  to,  since  he  entered  the  house 


466  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

— a  low  noiseless  chuckle,  which  seemed  to  intimate 
that  he  enjoyed  his  laugh  too  much,  to  let  any  of  it 
escape  in  sound. 

'Mr.  Nupkins,"  said  the  elder  lady,  'this  is  not  a 
fit  conversation  for  the  servants  to  overhear.  Let 
these  wretches  be  removed.' 

'Certainly,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     'Muzzle!' 

'Your  worship/ 

'Open  the  front  door.' 

'Yes,  your  worship.' 

'Leave  the  house!'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  waving  his 
hand  emphatically. 

Jingle  smiled,  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

'Stay!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Jingle  stopped. 

'I  might,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'have  taken  a  much 
greater  revenge  for  the  treatment  I  have  experienced 
at  your  hands,  and  that  of  your  hypocritical  friend 
there.' 

Job  Trotter  bowed  with  great  politeness,  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

'I  say,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  gradually 
angry,  'that  I  might  have  taken  a  greater  revenge, 
but  I  content  myself  with  exposing  you,  which  I  con- 
sider a  duty  I  owe  to  society.  This  is  a  leniency,  sir, 
which  I  hope  you  will  remember.' 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  arrived  at  this  point,  Job 
Trotter,  with  facetious  gravity,  applied  his  hand  to 
his  ear,  as  if  desirous  not  to  lose  a  syllable  he  uttered. 

'And  I  have  only  to  add,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
now  thoroughly  angry,  'that  I  consider  you  a  rascal, 
and  a — a  ruffian — and — and  worse  than  any  man  I 
ever  saw,  or  heard  of,  except  that  pious  and  sancti- 
fied vagabond  in  the  mulberry  livery.' 

'Ha!  ha!'  said  Jingle,  'good  fellow,  Pickwick- 
fine  heart — stout  old  boy — but  must  not  be  passion- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  467 

ate — bad  thing,  very — bye,  bye — see  you  again  some 
day — keep  up  your  spirits — now,  JotH-trot!' 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Jingle  stuck  on  his  hat  in 
the  old  fashion,  and  strode  out  of  the  room.  Job 
Trotter  paused,  looked  round,  smiled,  and  then  with 
a  bow  of  mock  solemnity  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  a 
wink  to  Mr.  Weller,  the  audacious  slyness  of  which 
baffles  all  description,  followed  the  footsteps  of  his 
hopeful  master. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Weller  was  fol- 
lowing. 

'Sir.' 

'Stay  here.' 

Mr.  Weller  seemed  uncertain. 

'Stay  here,'  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Mayn't  I  polish  that  'ere  Job  off,  in  the  front 
garden?'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Mayn't  I  kick  him  out  o'  the  gate,  sir?'  said  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Xot  on  any  account,'  replied  his  master. 

For  the  first  time  since  his  engagement,  Mr.  Weller 
looked,  for  a  moment,  discontented  and  unhappy. 
But  his  countenance  immediately  cleared  up;  for  the 
wily  Mr.  Muzzle,  by  concealing  himself  behind  the 
street  door,  and  rushing  violently  out,  at  the  right 
instant,  contrived  with  great  dexterity  to  overturn 
both  Mr.  Jingle  and  his  attendant,  down  the  flight 
of  steps,  into  the  American  aloe  tubs  that  stood  be- 
neath. 

'Having  discharged  my  duty,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick to  Mr.  Nupkins,  T  will,  with  my  friends,  bid 
you  farewell.  While  we  thank  you  for  such  hospital- 
ity as  we  have  received,  permit  me  to  assure  you,  in 
our  joint  names,  that  we  should  not  have  accepted 
it,  or  have  consented  to  extricate  ourselves  in  this 


468  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

way,  from  our  previous  dilemma,  had  we  not  been 
impelled  by  a  strong  sense  of  duty.  We  return  to 
London  to-morrow.  Your  secret  is  safe  with  us.' 

Having  thus  entered  his  protest  against  their  treat- 
ment of  the  morning,  Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  low  to  the 
ladies,  and  notwithstanding  the  solicitations  of  the 
family,  left  the  room  with  his  friends. 

'Get  your  hat,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It 's  below-stairs,  sir/  said  Sam,  and  he  ran  down 
after  it. 

Now,  there  was  nobody  in  the  kitchen,  but  the 
pretty  housemaid;  and  as  Sam's  hat  was  mislaid,  he 
had  to  look  for  it;  and  the  pretty  housemaid  lighted 
him.  They  had  to  look  all  over  the  place  for  the  hat. 
The  pretty  housemaid,  in  her  anxiety  to  find  it,  went 
down  on  her  knees,  and  turned  over  all  the  things 
that  were  heaped  together  in  a  little  corner  by  the 
door.  It  was  an  awkward  corner.  You  couldn't 
get  at  it  without  shutting  the  door  first. 

'Here  it  is,'  said  the  pretty  housemaid.  'This  is 
it,  ain't  it?' 

'Let  me  look,'  said  Sam. 

The  pretty  housemaid  had  stood  the  candle  on  the 
floor;  as  it  gave  a  very  dim  light,  Sam  was  obliged 
to  go  down  on  his  knees  before  he  could  see  whether 
it  really  was  his  own  hat  or  not.  It  was  a  remark- 
ably small  corner,  and  so — it  was  nobody's  fault  but 
the  man's  who  built  the  house — Sam  and  the  pretty 
housemaid  were  necessarily  very  close  together. 

'Yes,  this  is  it,'  said  Sam.     'Good-bye!' 

'Good-bye !'  said  the  pretty  housemaid. 

'Good-bye !'  said  Sam ;  and  as  he  said  it,  he  dropped 
the  hat  that  had  cost  so  much  trouble  in  looking  for. 

'How  awkward  you  are,'  said  the  pretty  house- 
maid. 'You  '11  lose  it  again,  if  you  don't  take  care.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  469 

So,  just  to  prevent  his  losing  it  again,  she  put  it 
on  for  him. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  pretty  housemaid's  face 
looked  prettier  still,  when  it  was  raised  towards 
Sam's,  or  whether  it  was  the  accidental  consequence 
of  their  being  so  near  to  each  other,  is  matter  of  un- 
certainty to  this  day ;  but  Sam  kissed  her. 

'You  don't  mean  to  say  you  did  that  on  purpose?' 
said  the  pretty  maid,  blushing. 

'No,  I  didn't  then,'  said  Sam;  'but  I  will  now.' 

So  he  kissed  her  again. 

'Sam!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  over  the 
banisters. 

'Coming,  sir,'  replied  Sam,  running  upstairs. 

'How  long  you  have  been!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'There  was  something  behind  the  door,  sir,  which 
perwented  our  getting  it  open,  for  ever  so  long,  sir,' 
replied  Sam. 

And  this  was  the  first  passage  of  Mr.  Weller's  first 
love. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

WHICH  CONTAINS  A  BRIEF  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  PROGRESS 
OF  THE  ACTION  OF  BARBELL  AGAINST  PICKWICK 

HAVING  accomplished  the  main  end  and  object  of 
his  journey,  by  the  exposure  of  Jingle,  Mr.  Pickwick 
resolved  on  immediately  returning  to  London,  with 
the  view  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  proceed- 
ings which  had  been  taken  against  him,  in  the  mean 
time,  by  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg.  Acting  upon 
this  resolution  with  all  the  energy  and  decision  of  his 
character,  he  mounted  to  the  back  seat  of  the  first 


470  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

coach  which  left  Ipswich  on  the  morning  after  the 
memorable  occurrences  detailed  at  length  in  the  two 
preceding  chapters;  and  accompanied  by  his  three 
friends,  and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  arrived  in  the 
metropolis,  in  perfect  health  and  safety,  the  same 
evening.  • 

Here,  the  friends,  for  a  short  time,  separated. 
Messrs.  Tupman,  Winkle,  and  Snodgrass  repaired 
to  their  several  homes  to  make  such  preparations  as 
might  be  requisite  for  their  forthcoming  visit  to 
Dingley  Dell;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  took  up 
their  present  abode  in  very  good,  old-fashioned,  and 
comfortable  quarters :  to  wit,  the  George  and  Vulture 
Tavern  and  Hotel,  George  Yard,  Lombard  Street. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  dined,  finished  his  second  pint 
of  particular  port,  pulled  his  silk  handkerchief  over 
his  head,  put  his  feet  on  the  fender,  and  thrown  him- 
self back  in  an  easy  chair,  when  the  entrance  of  Mr. 
Weller  with  his  carpet  bag,  aroused  him  from  his 
tranquil  meditations. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  have  just  been  thinking,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'that  having  left  a  good  many  things  at  Mrs. 
Bardell's,  in  Goswell  Street,  I  ought  to  arrange  for 
taking  them  away,  before  I  leave  town  again.' 

'Wery  good,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  could  send  them  to  Mr.  Tupman's,  for  the  pres- 
ent, Sam,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  'but  before  we 
take  them  away,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  be 
looked  up,  and  put  together.  I  wish  you  would  step 
up  to  Goswell  Street,  Sam,  and  arrange  about  it.' 

'At  once,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'At  once,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'And  stay, 
Sam,'  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  pulling  out  his  purse, 
'There  is  some  rent  to  pay.  The  quarter  is  not  due 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  471 

till  Christmas,  but  you  may  pay  it,  and  have  done 
with  it.  A  month's  notice  terminates  my  tenancy. 
Here  it  is,  written  out.  Give  it,  and  tell  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell  she  may  put  a  bill  up,  as  soon  as  she  likes.' 

'Wery  good,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'anythin' 
more,  sir?' 

'Nothing  more,  Sam/ 

Mr.  Weller  stepped  slowly  to  the  door,  as  if  he 
expected  something  more;  slowly  opened  it,  slowly 
stepped  out,  and  had  slowly  closed  it  within  a  couple 
of  inches,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  called  out — 

'Sam.' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  stepping  quickly  back,  and 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

'I  have  no  objection,  Sam,  to  your  endeavouring  to 
ascertain  how  Mrs.  Bardell  herself  seems  disposed 
towards  me,  and  whether  it  is  really  probable  that  this 
vile  and  groundless  action  is  to  be  carried  to  extrem- 
ity. I  say  I  do  not  object  to  your  doing  this,  if  you 
wish  it,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  gave  a  short  nod  of  intelligence,  and  left  the 
room.  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  the  silk  handkerchief 
once  more  over  his  head,  and  composed  himself  for  a 
nap.  Mr.  Weller  promptly  walked  forth,  to  execute 
his  commission. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  he  reached  Goswell 
Street.  A  couple  of  candles  were  burning  in  the 
little  front  parlour,  and  a  couple  of  caps  were  re- 
flected on  the  window-blind.  Mrs.  Bardell  had  got 
company. 

Mr.  Weller  knocked  at  the  door,  and  after  a  pretty 
long  interval — occupied  by  the  party  without,  in 
whistling  a  tune,  and  by  the  party  within,  in  persuad- 
ing a  refractory  flat  candle  to  allow  itself  to  be  lighted 
—a  pair  of  small  boots  pattered  over  the  floor-cloth, 
and  Master  Bardell  presented  himself. 


472  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Well,  young  townskip,'  said  Sam,  'how 's 
mother?' 

'She 's  pretty  well,'  replied  Master  Bardell,  'so 
ami.' 

'Well,  that's  a  mercy,'  said  Sam;  'tell  her  I  want 
to  speak  to  her,  will  you,  my  hinfant  fernomenon?' 

Master  Bardell,  thus  adjured,  placed  the  refractory 
flat  candle  on  the  bottom  stair,  and  vanished  into  the 
front  parlour  with  his  message. 

The  two  caps,  reflected  on  the  window-blind,  were 
the  respective  head-dresses  of  a  couple  of  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell's  most  particular  acquaintance,  who  had  just 
stepped  in,  to  have  a  quiet  cup  of  tea,  and  a  little 
warm  supper  of  a  couple  of  sets  of  pettitoes  and  some 
toasted  cheese.  The  cheese  was  simmering  and 
browning  away,  most  delightfully,  in  a  little  Dutch 
oven  before  the  fire;  the  pettitoes  were  getting  on 
deliciously  in  a  little  tin  saucepan  on  the  hob;  and 
Mrs.  Bardell  and  her  two  friends  were  getting  on 
very  well,  also,  in  a  little  quiet  conversation  about 
and  concerning  all  their  particular  friends  and  ac- 
quaintance; when  Master  Bardell  came  back  from 
answering  the  door,  and  delivered  the  message  in- 
trusted to  him  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

'Mr.  Pickwick's  servant!'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  turn- 
ing pale. 

'Bless  my  soul!'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'Well,  I  raly  would  not  ha'  believed  it,  unless  I  had 
ha'  happened  to  ha'  been  here!'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

Mrs.  Cluppins  was  a  little  brisk,  busy-looking 
woman;  Mrs.  Sanders  was  a  big,  fat,  heavy-faced 
personage;  and  the  two  were  the  company. 

Mrs.  Bardell  felt  it  proper  to  be  agitated;  and  as 
none  of  the  three  exactly  knew  whether,  under  ex- 
isting circumstances,  any  communication,  otherwise 
than  through  Dodson  and  Fogg,  ought  to  be  held 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  473 

with  Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,  they  were  all  rather 
taken  by  surprise.  In  this  state  of  indecision,  ob- 
viously the  first  thing  to  be  done,  was  to  thump  the 
boy  for  finding  Mr.  Weller  at  the  door.  So  his 
mother  thumped  him,  and  he  cried  melodiously. 

'Hold  your  noise — do — you  naughty  creetur!'  said 
Mrs.  Bardell. 

'Yes;  don't  worrit  your  poor  mother,*  said  Mrs. 
Sanders. 

'She  's  quite  enough  to  worrit  her,  as  it  is,  without 
you,  Tommy,'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  sympathising 
resignation. 

'Ah !  worse  luck,  poor  lamb !'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

At  all  which  moral  reflections,  Master  Bardell 
howled  the  louder. 

'Now,  what  shall  I  do?'  said  Mrs.  Bardell  to  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

'I  think  you  ought  to  see  him,'  replied  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins. 'But  on  no  account  without  a  witness.' 

fl  think  two  witnesses  would  be  more  lawful,'  said 
Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  like  the  other  friend,  was  burst- 
ing with  curiosity. 

'Perhaps  he  'd  better  come  in  here,'  said  Mrs. 
Bardell. 

'To  be  sure,'  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins,  eagerly  catch- 
ing at  the  idea.  'Walk  in,  young  man ;  and  shut  the 
street  door  first,  please.' 

Mr.  Weller  immediately  took  the  hint;  and  pre- 
senting himself  in  the  parlour,  explained  his  business 
to  Mrs.  Bardell  thus — 

'Wery  sorry  to  'casion  any  personal  inconwenience, 
ma'am,  as  the  housebreaker  said  to  the  old  lady  when 
he  put  her  on  the  fire;  but  as  me  and  my  governor's 
only  jest  come  to  town,  and  is  jest  going  away  agin, 
it  can't  be  helped,  you  see.' 

'Of  course,  the  young  man  can't  help  the  faults 


474 

of  his  master,'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  much  struck  by 
Mr.  Waller's  appearance  and  conversation. 

'Certainly  not,'  chimed  in  Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  from 
certain  wistful  glances  at  the  little  tin  saucepan, 
seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  mental  calculation  of  the 
probable  extent  of  the  pettitoes,  in  the  event  of  Sam's 
being  asked  to  stop  supper. 

'So  all  I  Ve  come  about,  is  jest  this  here/  said  Sam. 
disregarding  the  interruption ;  'First,  to  give  my  gov- 
ernor's notice — there  it  is.  Secondly,  to  pay  the  rent 
— here  it  is.  Thirdly,  to  say  as  all  his  things  is  to 
be  put  together,  and  give  to  anybody  as  we  sends 
for  'em.  Fourthly,  that  you  may  let  the  place  as 
soon  as  you  like — and  that 's  all.' 

'Whatever  has  happened,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  'I 
always  have  said,  and  always  will  say,  that  in  every 
respect  but  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  has  always  behaved 
himself  like  a  perfect  gentleman.  His  money  always 
was  as  good  as  the  bank:  always.' 

As  Mrs.  Bardell  said  this,  she  applied  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes,  and  went  out  of  the  room  to  get 
the  receipt. 

Sam  well  knew  that  he  had  only  to  remain  quiet, 
and  the  women  were  sure  to  talk;  so  he  looked  alter- 
nately at  the  tin  saucepan,  the  toasted  cheese,  the  wall, 
and  the  ceiling,  in  profound  silence. 

'Poor  dear!'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'Ah,  poor  thing !'  replied  Mrs.  Sanders. 

Sam  said  nothing.  He  saw  they  were  coming  to 
the  subject. 

'I  raly  cannot  contain  myself,'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
'when  I  think  of  such  perjury.  I  don't  wish  to  say 
anything  to  make  you  uncomfortable,  young  man, 
but  your  master 's  an  old  brute,  and  I  wish  I  had  him 
here  to  tell  him  so.' 

'I  wish  you  had,'  said  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  475 


'To  see  how  dreadful  she  takes  on,  going  moping 
about,  and  taking  no  pleasure  in  nothing,  except 
when  her  friends  comes  in,  out  of  charity,  to  sit  with 
her,  and  make  her  comfortable,'  resumed  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins,  glancing  at  the  tin  saucepan  and  the  Dutch 
oven,  'it 's  shocking !' 

'Barbareous,'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

'And  your  master,  young  man  1  A  gentleman  with 
money,  as  could  never  feel  the  expense  of  a  wife, 
no  more  than  nothing,'  continued  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with 
great  volubility;  'why  there  ain't  the  faintest  shade 
of  an  excuse  for  his  behaviour  1  Why  don't  he  marry 
her?' 

'All,'  said  Sam,  'to  be  sure;  that 's  the  question.' 

'Question,  indeed,'  retorted  Mrs.  Cluppins ;  'she  'd 
question  him,  if  she  'd  my  spirit.  Hows'ever,  there 
is  law  for  us  women,  mis'rable  creeturs  as  they  'd 
make  us,  if  they  could;  and  that  your  master  will 
find  out,  young  man,  to  his  cost,  afore  he  's  six  months 
older.' 

At  this  consolatory  reflection,  Mrs.  Cluppins 
bridled  up,  and  smiled  at  Mrs.  Sanders,  who  smiled 
back  again. 

'The  action  's  going  on,  and  no  mistake,'  thought 
Sam,  as  Mrs.  Bardell  re-entered  with  the  receipt. 

'Here  's  the  receipt,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell, 
'and  here  's  the  change,  and  I  hope  you  '11  take  a  little 
drop  of  something  to  keep  the  cold  out,  if  it 's  only 
for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  Mr.  Weller.' 

Sam  saw  the  advantage  he  should  gain,  and  at  once 
acquiesced;  whereupon  Mrs.  Bardell  produced,  from 
a  small  closet,  a  black  bottle  and  a  wine-glass;  and 
so  great  was  her  abstraction,  in  her  deep  mental  afflic- 
tion, that,  after  filling  Mr.  Weller's  glass,  she  brought 
out  three  more  wine-glasses,  and  filled  them  too. 


476  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Lauk,  Mrs.  Bardell,'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  'see  what 
you  've  been  and  done!' 

'Well,  that  is  a  good  one!'  ejaculated  Mrs.  San- 
ders. 

'Ah,  my  poor  head!'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

Sam  understood  all  this,  of  course,  so  he  said  at 
once,  that  he  never  could  drink  before  supper,  unless 
a  lady  drank  with  him.  A  great  deal  of  laughing 
ensued,  and  Mrs.  Sanders  volunteered  to  humour  him, 
so  she  took  a  slight  sip  out  of  her  glass.  Then,  Sam 
said  it  must  go  all  round,  so  they  all  took  a  slight  sip. 
Then,  little  Mrs.  Cluppins  proposed  as  a  toast,  'Suc- 
cess to  Bardell  agin  Pickwick';  and  then  the  ladies 
emptied  their  glasses  in  honour  of  the  sentiment,  and 
got  very  talkative  directly. 

'I  suppose  you  've  heard  what 's  going  forward, 
Mr.  Weller?'  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'I  Ve  heerd  somethin'  on  it,'  replied  Sam. 

'It 's  a  terrible  thing  to  be  dragged  before  the  pub- 
lic, in  that  way,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell;  'but 
I  see  now,  that  it 's  the  only  thing  I  ought  to  do,  and 
my  lawyers,  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  tell  me,  that  with 
the  evidence  as  we  shall  call,  we  must  succeed.  I 
don't  know  what  I  should  do,  Mr.  Weller,  if  I  didn't.' 

The  mere  idea  of  Mrs.  Bardell's  failing  in  her  ac- 
tion, affected  Mrs.  Sanders  so  deeply,  that  she  was 
under  the  necessity  of  re-filling  and  re-emptying  her 
glass  immediately;  feeling,  as  she  said  afterwards, 
that  if  she  hadn't  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  do  so, 
she  must  have  dropped. 

'Ven  is  it  expected  to  come  on?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Either  in  February  or  March,'  replied  Mrs. 
Bardell. 

'What  a  number  of  witnesses  there  '11  be,  won't 
there?'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  477 

'Ah,  won't  there!'  replied  Mrs.  Sanders. 

'And  won't  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg  be  wild  if  the 
plaintiff  shouldn't  get  it?'  added  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
'when  they  do  it  all  on  speculation!' 

'Ah!  won't  they!'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

'But  the  plaintiff  must  get  it,'  resumed  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins. 

'I  hope  so,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'Oh,  there  can't  be  any  doubt  about  it,'  rejoined 
Mrs.  Sanders. 

'Veil,'  said  Sam,  rising  and  setting  down  his  glass, 
'all  I  can  say  is,  that  I  wish  you  may  get  it.' 

Thank 'ee,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  fer- 
vently. 

'And  of  them  Dodson  and  Foggs,  as  does  these  sort 
o'  things  on  spec,'  continued  Mr.  Weller,  'as  well  as 
for  the  other  kind  and  gen'rous  people  o'  the  same 
purfession,  as  sets  people  by  the  ears,  free  gratis  for 
nothin',  and  sets  their  clerks  to  work  to  find  out  little 
disputes  among  their  neighbours  and  acquaintances  as 
vants  settlin'  by  means  o'  law-suits — all  I  can  say  o' 
them  is,  that  I  vish  they  had  the  revard  I  'd  give  'em.' 

'Ah,  I  wish  they  had  the  reward  that  every  kind  and 
generous  heart  would  be  inclined  to  bestow  upon 
them !'  said  the  gratified  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'Amen  to  that,'  replied  Sam,  'and  a  fat  and  happy 
livin'  they'd  get  out  of  it!  Wish  you  good  night, 
ladies.' 

To  the  great  relief  of  Mrs.  Sanders,  Sam  was  al- 
lowed to  depart  without  any  reference,  on  the  part  of 
the  hostess,  to  the  pettitoes  and  toasted  cheese:  to 
which  the  ladies,  with  .such  juvenile  assistance  as  Mas- 
ter Bardell  could  afford,  soon  afterwards  rendered 
the  amplest  justice — indeed  they  wholly  vanished  be- 
fore their  strenuous  exertions. 

Mr.  Weller  went  his  way  back  to  the  George  and 


478  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Vulture,  and  faithfully  recounted  to  his  master,  such 
indications  of  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg, 
as  he  had  contrived  to  pick  up  in  his  visit  to  Mrs. 
Bardell's.  An  interview  with  Mr.  Perker,  next  day, 
more  than  confirmed  Mr.  Weller's  statement ;  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  fain  to  prepare  for  his  Christmas  visit 
to  Dingley  Dell,  with  the  pleasant  anticipation  that 
some  two  or  three  months  afterwards,  an  action 
brought  against  him  for  damages  sustained  by  reason 
of  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  would  be  pub- 
licly tried  in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas;  the  plain- 
tiff having  all  the  advantages  derivable,  not  only  from 
the  force  of  circumstances,  but  from  the  sharp  practice 
of  Dodson  and  Fogg  to  boot. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SAMUEL   WELLER   MAKES   A   PILGRIMAGE   TO   DORKING, 
AND  BEHOLDS  HIS  MOTHER-IN-LAW 

THERE  still  remaining  an  interval  of  two  days  before 
the  time  agreed  upon  for  the  departure  of  the  Pick- 
wickians  to  Dingley  Dell,  Mr.  Weller  sat  himself 
down  in  a  back  room  at  the  George  and  Vulture,  after 
eating  an  early  dinner,  to  muse  on  the  best  way  of 
disposing  of  his  time.  It  was  a  remarkably  fine  day; 
and  he  had  not  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind  ten 
minutes,  when  he  was  suddenly  stricken  filial  and  af- 
fectionate; and  it  occurred  to  him  so  strongly  that  he 
ought  to  go  down  and  see  his  father,  and  pay  his  duty 
to  his  mother-in-law,  that  he  was  lost  in  astonishment 
at  his  own  remissness  in  never  thinking  of  this  moral 
obligation  before.  Anxious  to  atone  for  his  past 
neglect  without  another  hour's  delay,  he  straightway 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  479 

walked  upstairs  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  requested  leave 
of  absence  for  this  laudable  purpose. 

'Certainly,  Sam,  certainly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his 
eyes  glistening  with  delight  at  this  manifestation  of 
filial  feeling  on  the  part  of  his  attendant;  'certainly, 
Sam.' 

Mr.  Weller  made  a  grateful  bow. 

'I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  you  have  so  high  a  sense 
of  your  duties  as  a  son,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  always  had,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'That 's  a  very  gratifying  reflection,  Sam,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  approvingly. 

'Wery,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'if  ever  I  wanted 
anythin'  o'  my  father,  I  always  asked  for  it  in  a  wery 
'spectful  and  obligin'  manner.  If  he  didn't  give  it 
me,  I  took  it,  for  fear  I  should  be  led  to  do  anythin' 
wrong,  through  not  bavin'  it.  I  saved  him  a  world 
o'  trouble  in  this  vay,  sir.' 

'That 's  not  precisely  what  I  meant,  Sam,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  shaking  his  head,  with  a  slight  smile. 

'All  good  f eelin',  sir — the  wery  best  intentions,  as 
the  gen'l'm'n  said  ven  he  run  away  from  his  wife  'cos 
she  seemed  unhappy  with  him,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'You  may  go,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Thank'  ee,  sir/  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  and  having 
made  his  best  bow,  and  put  on  his  best  clothes,  Sam 
planted  himself  on  the  top  of  the  Arundel  coach,  and 
journeyed  on  to  Dorking. 

The  Marquis  of  Granby  in  Mrs.  Weller's  time  was 
quite  a  model  of  a  road-side  public-house  of  the  better 
class — just  large  enough  to  be  convenient,  and  small 
enough  to  be  snug.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road 
was  a  large  sign-board  on  a  high  post,  representing 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  gentleman  with  an 
apoplectic  countenance,  in  a  red  coat  with  deep  blue 


480          THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

facings,  and  a  touch  of  the  same  blue  over  his  three- 
cornered  hat,  for  a  sky.  Over  that  again  were  a  pair 
of  flags;  beneath  the  last  button  of  his  coat  were  a 
couple  of  cannon;  and  the  whole  formed  an  express- 
ive and  undoubted  likeness  of  the  Marquis  of  Granby 
of  glorious  memory. 

The  bar  window  displayed  a  choice  collection  of 
geranium  plants,  and  a  well-dusted  row  of  spirit 
phials.  The  open  shutters  bore  a  variety  of  golden 
inscriptions,  eulogistic  of  good  beds  and  neat  wines; 
and  the  choice  group  of  countrymen  and  hostlers 
lounging  about  the  stable-door  and  horse-trough,  af- 
forded presumptive  proof  of  the  excellent  quality  of 
the  ale  and  spirits  which  were  sold  within.  Sam 
Weller  paused,  when  he  dismounted  from  the  coach, 
to  note  all  these  little  indications  of  a  thriving  busi- 
ness, with  the  eye  of  an  experienced  traveller;  and 
having  done  so,  stepped  in  at  once,  highly  satisfied 
with  everything  he  had  observed. 

'Now,  then!'  said  a  shrill  female  voice  the  instant 
Sam  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door,  'what  do  you  want, 
young  man?' 

Sam  looked  round  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice 
proceeded.  It  came  from  a  rather  stout  lady  of  com- 
fortable appearance,  who  was  seated  beside  the  fire- 
place in  the  bar,  blowing  the  fire  to  make  the  kettle 
boil  for  tea.  She  was  not  alone ;  for  on  the  other  side 
of  the  fireplace,  bolt  upright  in  a  high-backed  chair, 
was  a  man  in  threadbare  black  clothes,  with  a  back 
almost  as  long  and  stiff  as  that  of  the  chair  itself,  who 
caught  Sam's  most  particular  and  especial  attention 
at  once. 

He  was  a  prim-faced,  red-nosed  man,  with  a  long, 

thin  countenance,  and  a  semi-rattlesnake  sort  of  eye 

—rather  sharp,  but  decidedly  bad.     He  wore  very 

short  trousers,  and  black-cotton  stockings,  which,  like 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  481 

the  rest  of  his  apparel,  were  particularly  rusty.  His 
looks  were  starched,  but  his  white  neckerchief  was 
not,  and  its  long  limp  ends  straggled  over  his  closely- 
buttoned  waistcoat  in  a  very  uncouth  and  unpic- 
turesque  fashion.  A  pair  of  old,  worn  beaver  gloves, 
a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  a  faded  green  umbrella, 
with  plenty  of  whalebone  sticking  through  the  bottom, 
as  if  to  counterbalance  the  want  of  a  handle  at  the  top, 
lay  on  a  chair  beside  him,  and,  being  disposed  in  a 
very  tidy  and  careful  manner,  seemed  to  imply  that 
the  red-nosed  man,  whoever  he  was,  had  no  intention 
of  going  away  in  a  hurry. 

To  do  the  red-nosed  man  justice,  he  would  have 
been  very  far  from  wise  if  he  had  entertained  any 
such  intention;  for,  to  judge  from  all  appearances,  he 
must  have  been  possessed  of  a  most  desirable  circle 
of  acquaintance,  if  he  could  have  reasonably  expected 
to  be  more  comfortable  anywhere  else.  The  fire  was 
blazing  brightly  under  the  influence  of  the  bellows., 
and  the  kettle  was  singing  gaily  under  the  influence 
of  both.  A  small  tray  of  tea-things  was  arranged 
on  the  table,  a  plate  of  hot  buttered  toast  was  gently 
simmering  before  the  fire,  and  the  red-nosed  man  him- 
self was  busily  engaged  in  converting  a  large  slice 
of  bread  into  the  same  agreeable  edible,  through  the 
instrumentality  of  a  long  brass  toasting-fork.  Be- 
side him  stood  a  glass  of  reeking  hot  pine-apple  rum- 
and-water?  with  a  slice  of  lemon  in  it;  and  every  time 
the  red-nosed  man  stopped  to  bring  the  round  of  toast 
to  his  eye,  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  how  it  got  on, 
he  imbibed  a  drop  or  two  of  the  hot  pine-apple  rum- 
and-water,  and  smiled  upon  the  rather  stout  lady,  as 
she  blew  the  fire. 

Sam  was  so  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  this  com- 
fortable scene,  that  he  suffered  the  first  inquiry  of 
the  rather  stout  lady  to  pass  unheeded.  It  was  not 


482  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

until  it  had  been  twice  repeated,  each  time  in  a  shriller 
tone,  that  he  became  conscious  of  the  impropriety  of 
his  behaviour. 

'Governor  in?'  inquired  Sam,  in  reply  to  the  ques- 
tion. 

'No,  he  isn't,'  replied  Mrs.  Weller;  for  the  rather 
stout  lady  was  no  other  than  the  quondam  relict  and 
sole  executrix  of  the  dead-and-gone  Mr.  Clarke ;  'No, 
he  isn't,  and  I  don't  expect  him,  either.' 

'I  suppose  he  's  a  drivin'  up  to-day?'  said  Sam. 

'He  may  be,  or  he  may  not,'  replied  Mrs.  Weller, 
buttering  the  round  of  toast  which  the  red-nosed  man 
had  just  finished.  'I  don't  know,  and,  what 's  more, 
I  don't  care.  Ask  a  blessin',  Mr.  Stiggins.' 

The  red-nosed  man  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  in- 
stantly commenced  on  the  toast  with  fierce  voracity. 

The  appearance  of  the  red-nosed  man  had  induced 
Sam,  at  first  sight,  to  more  than  half  suspect  that  he 
was  the  deputy  shepherd  of  whom  his  estimable  parent 
had  spoken.  The  moment  he  saw  him  eat,  all  doubt 
on  the  subject  was  removed,  and  he  perceived  at  once 
that  if  he  purposed  to  take  up  his  temporary  quarters 
where  he  was,  he  must  make  his  footing  good  without 
delay.  He  therefore  commenced  proceedings  by  put- 
ting his  arm  over  the  half-door  of  the  bar,  coolly  un- 
bolting it,  and  leisurely  walking  in. 

'Mother-in-law,'  said  Sam,  'how  are  you?' 

'Why,  I  do  believe  he  is  a  Weller!'  said  Mrs.  W., 
raising  her  eyes  to  Sam's  face,  with  no  very  gratified 
expression  of  countenance. 

'I  rayther  think  he  is,'  said  the  imperturbable  Sam ; 
'and  I  hope  this  here  reverend  gen'l'm'n  '11  excuse  me 
saying  that  I  wish  I  was  the  Weller  as  own:--  you, 
mother-in-law.' 

This  was  a  double-barrelled  compliment.  It  im- 
plied that  Mrs.  Weller  was  a  most  agreeable  female, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  483 

and  also  that  Mr.  Stiggins  had  a  clerical  appearance. 
It  made  a  visible  impression  at  once;  and  Sam  fol- 
lowed up  his  advantage  by  kissing  his  mother-in-law. 

'Get  along  with  you!'  said  Mrs.  Weller,  pushing 
him  away. 

'For  shame,  young  man!'  said  the  gentleman  with 
the  red  nose. 

'No  offence,  sir,  no  offence,'  replied  Sam;  'you're 
wery  right,  though;  it  ain't  the  right  sort  o'  thing,  wen 
mothers-in-law  is  young  and  good-looking,  is  it,  sir?' 

'It 's  all  vanity,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

'Ah,  so  it  is,'  said  Mrs.  Weller,  setting  her  cap  to 
rights. 

Sam  thought  it  was  too,  but  he  held  his  peace. 

The  deputy  shepherd  seemed  by  no  means  best 
pleased  with  Sam's  arrival;  and  when  the  first  effer- 
vescence of  the  compliment  had  subsided,  even  Mrs. 
Weller  looked  as  if  she  could  have  spared  him  with- 
out the  smallest  inconvenience.  However,  there  he 
was ;  and  as  he  couldn't  be  decently  turned  out,  they 
all  three  sat  down  to  tea. 

'And  how  's  father?'  said  Sam. 

At  this  inquiry,  Mrs.  Weller  raised  her  hands,  and 
turned  up  her  eyes,  as  if  the  subject  were  too  painful 
to  be  alluded  to. 

Mr.  Stiggins  groaned. 

'What's  the  matter  with  that  'ere  genTm'n?'  in- 
quired Sam. 

'He  's  shocked  at  the  way  your  father  goes  on  in,' 
replied  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Oh,  he  is,  is  he?'  said  Sam. 

'And  with  too  good  reason/  added  Mrs.  Weller, 
gravely. 

Mr.  Stiggins  took  up  a  fresh  piece  of  toast,  and 
groaned  heavily. 

'He  is  a  dreadful  reprobate,'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 


484  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'A  man  of  wrath!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Stiggins.  He 
took  a  large  semi-circular  bite  out  of  the  toast,  and 
groaned  again. 

Sam  felt  very  strongly  disposed  to  give  the  rev- 
erend Mr.  Stiggins  something  to  groan  for,  but  he 
repressed  his  inclination,  and  merely  asked,  'What 's 
the  old  'un  up  to,  now?' 

'Up  to,  indeed!'  said  Mrs.  Weller.  'Oh,  he  has  a 
hard  heart.  Night  after  night  does  this  excellent 
man — don't  frown,  Mr.  Stiggins:  I  will  say  you  are 
an  excellent  man — come  and  sit  here,  for  hours  to- 
gether, and  it  has  not  the  least  effect  upon  him.' 

'Well,  that  is  odd,'  said  Sam;  'it  'ud  have  a  wery 
considerable  effect  upon  me,  if  I  wos  in  his  place;  I 
know  that.' 

'The  fact  is,  my  young  friend,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins, 
solemnly,  'he  has  an  obderrate  bosom.  Oh,  my  young 
friend,  who  else  could  have  resisted  the  pleading  of 
sixteen  of  our  fairest  sisters,  and  without  their  ex- 
hortations to  subscribe  to  our  noble  society  for  pro- 
viding the  infant  negroes  in  the  West  Indies  with 
flannel  waistcoats  and  moral  pocket  handkerchiefs?' 

'What's  a  moral  pocket  ankercher?'  said  Sam;  'I 
never  see  one  o'  them  articles  o'  furniter.' 

'Those  which  combine  amusement  with  instruction, 
my  young  friend,'  replied  Mr.  Stiggins:  'blending 
select  tales  with  wood-cuts/ 

'Oh,  I  know,'  said  Sam;  'them  as  hangs  up  in  the 
linen-drapers'  shops,  with  beggars'  petitions  and  all 
that  'ere  upon  'em?' 

Mr.  Stiggins  began  a  third  round  of  toast,  and 
nodded  assent. 

'And  he  wouldn't  be  persuaded  by  the  ladies, 
wouldn't  he  ?'  said  Sam. 

'Sat  and  smoked  his   pipe,   and  said  the  infant 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  485 

negroes  were — what  did  he  say  the  infant  negroes 
were?'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Little  humbugs,'  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  deeply  af- 
fected. 

'Said  the  infant  negroes  were  little  humbugs,'  re- 
peated Mrs.  Weller.  And  they  both  groaned  at  the 
atrocious  conduct  of  the  old  gentleman. 

A  great  many  more  iniquities  of  a  similar  nature 
might  have  been  disclosed,  only  the  toast  being  all 
eaten,  the  tea  having  got  very  weak,  and  Sam  holding 
out  no  indications  of  meaning  to  go,  Mr.  Stiggins 
suddenly  recollected  that  he  had  a  most  pressing  ap- 
pointment with  the  shepherd,  and  took  himself  off 
accordingly. 

The  tea-things  had  been  scarcely  put  away,  and  the 
hearth  swept  up,  when  the  London  coach  deposited 
Mr.  Weller  senior  at  the  door ;  his  legs  deposited  him 
in  the  bar ;  and  his  eyes  showed  him  his  son. 

'What,  Sammy !'  exclaimed  the  father. 

'What,  old  Nobs!'  ejaculated  the  son.  And  they 
shook  hands  heartily. 

'Wery  glad  to  see  you,  Sammy,'  said  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller,  'though  how  you  've  managed  to  get  over 
your  mother-in-law,  is  a  mystery  to  me.  I  only  vish 
you  'd  write  me  out  the  receipt,  that 's  all.' 

'Hush!'  said  Sam,  'she  's  at  home,  old  feller.' 

'She  ain't  vithin  hearin','  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'she 
always  goes  and  blows  up,  downstairs,  for  a  couple  of 
hours  arter  tea;  so  we  '11  just  give  ourselves  a  damp, 
Sammy.' 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Weller  mixed  two  glasses  of 
spirits-and-water,  and  produced  a  couple  of  pipes. 
The  father  and  son  sitting  down  opposite  each  other : 
Sam  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  in  the  high-backed  chair, 
and  Mr.  Weller  senior  on  the  other,  in  an  easy  ditto: 


486  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

they  proceeded  to  enjoy  themselves  with  all  due 
gravity. 

'Anybody  been  here,  Sammy?'  asked  Mr.  Weller 
senior,  drily,  after  a  long  silence. 

Sam  nodded  an  expressive  assent. 

'Red-nosed  chap  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  nodded  again. 

'Amiable  man  that  'ere,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
smoking  violently. 

'Seems  so,'  observed  Sam. 

'Good  hand  at  accounts,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Is  he?'  said  Sam. 

'Borrows  eighteenpence  on  Monday,  and  comes  on 
Tuesday  for  a  shillin'  to  make  it  up  half  a  crown; 
calls  again  on  Vensday  for  another  half-crown  to 
make  it  five  shillin's;  and  goes  on,  doubling,  till  he 
gets  it  up  to  a  five-pund  note  in  no  time,  like  them 
sums  in  the  'rithmetic  book  'bout  the  nails  in  the 
horse's  shoes,  Sammy.' 

Sam  intimated  by  a  nod  that  he  recollected  the 
problem  alluded  to  by  his  parent. 

'So  you  vouldn't  subscribe  to  the  flannel  veskits?' 
said  Sam,  after  another  interval  of  smoking. 

'Cert'nly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'what 's  the  good 
o'  flannel  veskits  to  the  young  niggers  abroad?  But 
I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
lowering  his  voice,  and  bending  across  the  fireplace; 
'I  'd  come  down  wery  handsome  towards  strait  veskits 
for  some  people  at  home.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  he  slowly  recovered  his 
former  position,  and  winked  at  his  first-born,  in  a 
profound  manner. 

'It  cert'nly  seems  a  queer  start  to  send  out  pocket 
ankerchers  to  people  as  don't  know  the  use  on  'em,' 
observed  Sam. 

'They  're  alvays  a  doin'  some  gammon  of  that  sort. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  487 

Sammy,'  replied  his  father.  'T'  other  Sunday  I  was 
walkin'  up  the  road,  when  who  should  I  see,  a  standin' 
at  a  chapel-door,  with  a  blue  soup-plate  in  her  hand, 
but  your  mother-in-law!  I  werily  believe  there  was 
change  for  a  couple  o'  suv'rins  in  it,  then,  Sammy, 
all  in  ha'pence ;  and  as  the  people  come  out,  they  rat- 
tled the  pennies  in  it,  till  you  'd  ha'  thought  that  no 
mortal  plate  as  ever  was  baked,  could  ha'  stood  the 
wear  and  tear.  What  d'  ye  think  it  was  all  for?' 

'For  another  tea-drinkin',  perhaps,'  said  Sam. 

'Not  a  bit  on  it,'  replied  the  father;  'for  the  shep- 
herd's water-rate,  Sammy.' 

'The  shepherd's  water-rate !'  said  Sam. 

'Ay,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'there  was  three  quarters 
owin',  and  the  shepherd  hadn't  paid  a  farden,  not  he 
— perhaps  it  might  be  on  account  that  the  water  warn't 
o'  much  use  to  him,  for  it 's  wery  little  o'  that  tap 
he  drinks,  Sammy,  wery;  he  knows  a  trick  worth  a 
good  half-dozen  of  that,  he  does.  Hows'ever,  it 
warn't  paid,  and  so  they  cuts  the  water  off.  Down 
goes  the  shepherd  to  chapel,  gives  out  as  he  's  a  perse- 
cuted saint,  and  says  he  hopes  the  heart  of  the  turn- 
cock as  cut  the  water  off,  '11  be  softened,  and  turned 
in  the  right  vay :  but  he  rayther  thinks  he  's  booked 
for  somethin'  uncomfortable.  Upon  this,  the  women 
calls  a  meetin',  sings  a  hymn,  wotes  your  mother-in- 
law  into  the  chair,  ^volunteers  a  col-lection  next  Sun- 
day, and  hands  it  all  over  to  the  shepherd.  And  if 
he  ain't  got  enough  out  on  'em,  Sammy,  to  make  him 
free  of  the  water  company  for  life,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
in  conclusion,  'I  'm  one  Dutchman,  and  you  're  an- 
other, and  that 's  all  about  it.' 

Mr.  Weller  smoked  for  some  minutes  in  silence, 
and  then  resumed— 

'The  worst  o'  these  here  shepherds  is,  my  boy,  that 
they  reg'larly  turns  the  heads  of  all  the  young  ladies, 


488  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

..bout  here.  Lord  bless  their  little  hearts,  they  thinks 
it 's  all  right,  and  don't  know  no  better ;  but  they  're 
the  wictims  o'  gammon,  Samivel,  they  're  the  wictims 
o'  gammon.' 

'I  s'pose  they  are/  said  Sam. 

'Nothin'  else,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  head 
gravely;  'and  wot  aggrawates  me,  Samivel,  is  to  see 
'em  a  wastin'  all  their  time  and  labour  in  making 
clothes  for  copper-coloured  people  as  don't  want  'em, 
and  taking  no  notice  of  flesh-coloured  Christians  as 
do.  If  I  'd  my  vay,  Samivel,  I  'd  just  stick  some  o' 
these  here  lazy  shepherds  behind  a  heavy  wheelbarrow, 
and  run  'em  up  and  down  a  f  ourteen-inch-wide  plank 
all  day.  That  'ud  shake  the  nonsense  out  of  'em,  if 
anythin'  vould.' 

Mr.  Weller  having  delivered  this  gentle  recipe  with 
strong  emphasis,  eked  out  by  a  variety  of  nods  and 
contortions  of  the  eye,  emptied  his  glass  at  a  draught, 
and  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  with  native 
dignity. 

He  was  engaged  in  this  operation,  when  a  shrill 
voice  was  heard  in  the  passage. 

'Here 's  your  dear  relation,  Sammy,'  saicf  Mr. 
Weller;  and  Mrs.  W.  hurried  into  the  room. 

'Oh,  you  've  come  back,  have  you !'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Yes,  my  dear,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  filling  a  fresh 
pipe. 

'Has  Mr.  Stiggins  been  back?'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

'No,  my  dear,  he  hasn't,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  light- 
ing the  pipe  by  the  ingenious  process  of  holding  to 
the  bowl  thereof,  between  the  tongs,  a  red-hot  coal 
from  the  adjacent  fire;  'and  what 's  more,  my  dear, 
I  shall  manage  to  surwive  it,  if  he  don't  come  back  at 
all.' 

'Ugh,  you  wretch !'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Thank  'ee,  my  love,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  489 

'Come,  come,  father,'  said  Sam,  'none  o'  these  little 
lovin's  afore  strangers.  Here  's  the  reverend  genT- 
m'n  a  comin'  in  now.' 

At  this  announcement,  Mrs.  Weller  hastily  wiped 
off  the  tears  which  she  had  just  begun  to  force  on; 
and  Mr.  W.  drew  his  chair  sullenly  into  the  chimney 
corner. 

Mr.  Stiggins  was  easily  prevailed  on,  to  take  an- 
other glass  of  the  hot  pine-apple  rum-and-water,  and 
a  second,  and  a  third,  and  then  to  refresh  himself 
with  a  slight  supper,  previous  to  beginning  again. 
He  sat  on  the  same  side  as  Mr.  Weller  senior;  and 
every  time  he  could  contrive  to  do  so,  unseen  by  his 
wife,  that  gentleman  indicated  to  his  son  the  hidden 
emotions  of  his  bosom,  by  shaking  his  fist  over  the 
deputy  shepherd's  head:  a  process  which  afforded  his 
son  the  most  unmingled  delight  and  satisfaction,  the 
more  especially  as  Mr.  Stiggins  went  on,  quietly 
drinking  the  hot  pine-apple  rum-and-water,  wholly 
unconscious  of  what  was  going  on. 

The  major  part  of  the  conversation  was  confined  to 
Mrs.  Weller  and  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins;  and  the 
topics  principally  descanted  on,  were  the  virtues  of 
the  shepherd,  the  worthiness  of  his  flock,  and  the 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanours  of  everybody  beside; 
dissertations  which  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  occasionally 
interrupted  by  half-suppressed  references  to  a  gentle- 
man of  the  name  of  Walker,  and  other  running  com- 
mentaries of  the  same  kind. 

At  length  Mr.  Stiggins,  with  several  most  in- 
dubitable symptoms  of  having  quite  as  much  pine- 
apple rum-and-water  about  him,  as  he  could  com- 
fortably accommodate,  took  his  hat,  and  his  leave :  and 
Sam  was,  immediately  afterwards,  shown  to  bed  by 
his  father.  The  respectable  old  gentleman  wrung 
his  hand  fervently,  and  seemed  disposed  to  address 


490  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

some  observation  to  his  son;  but  on  Mrs.  Weller  ad- 
vancing towards  him,  he  appeared  to  relinquish  that 
intention,  and  abruptly  bade  him  good  night. 

Sam  was  up  betimes  next  day,  and  having  partaken 
of  a  hasty  breakfast,  prepared  to  return  to  London. 
He  had  scarcely  set  foot  without  the  house,  when  his 
father  stood  before  him. 

'Coin',  Sammy?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'Off  at  once,'  replied  Sam. 

'I  vish  you  could  muffle  that  'ere  Stiggins,  and  take 
him  with  you,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  am  ashamed  on  you!'  said  Sam,  reproachfully; 
'what  do  you  let  him  show  his  red  nose  in  the  Markis 
o'  Granby  at  all,  for?' 

Mr.  Weller  the  elder  fixed  on  his  son  an  earnest 
look,  and  replied,  '  'Cause  I  'm  a  married  man,  Sam- 
ivel,  'cause  I  'm  a  married  man.  When  you  're  a 
married  man,  Samivel,  you  '11  understand  a  good 
many  things  as  you  don't  understand  now ;  but  vether 
it 's  worth  while  goin'  through  so  much,  to  learn  so 
little,  as  the  charity-boy  said  ven  he  got  to  the  end 
of  the  alphabet,  is  a  matter  o'  taste.  /  rayther  think 
it  isn't/ 

'Well/  said  Sam,  'good-bye/ 

'Tar,  tar,  Sammy/  replied  his  father. 

'I  've  only  got  to  say  this  here/  said  Sam,  stopping 
short,  'that  if  I  was  the  properiator  o'  the  Markis  o' 
Granby,  and  that  'ere  Stiggins  came  and  made  toast 
in  my  bar,  I  'd — ' 

'What?'  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  with  great  anxiety, 
'What?' 

— Pison  his  rum-and-water/  said  Sam. 

'No!'  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  son  eagerly  by 
the  hand,  'would  you  raly,  Sammy;  would  you, 
though?' 

'I  would/  said  Sam.     'I  wouldn't  be  too  hard  upon 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  491 

him  at  first.  I  'd  drop  him  in  the  water-butt,  and  put 
the  lid  on;  and  if  I  found  he  was  insensible  to  kind- 
ness, I  'd  try  the  other  persvasion.' 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  bestowed  a  look  of  deep, 
unspeakable  admiration  on  his  son:  and,  having  once 
more  grasped  his  hand,  walked  slowly  away,  revolving 
in  his  mind  the  numerous  reflections  to  which  his 
advice  had  given  rise. 

Sam  looked  after  him,  until  he  turned  a  corner  of 
the  road :  and  then  set  forward  on  his  walk  to  London. 
He  meditated,  at  first,  on  the  probable  consequences 
of  his  own  advice,  and  the  likelihood  of  his  father's 
adopting  it.  He  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind, 
however,  with  the  consolatory  reflection  that  time 
alone  would  show;  and  this  is  the  reflection  we  would 
impress  upon  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  GOOD-HUMOURED  CHRISTMAS  CHAPTER,  CONTAINING 
AN  ACCOUNT  OF  A  WEDDING,  AND  SOME  OTHER  SPORTS 
BESIDE  I  WHICH  ALTHOUGH  IN  THEIR  WAY,  EVEN  AS 
GOOD  CUSTOMS  AS  MARRIAGE  ITSELF,  ARE  NOT  QUITE 
SO  RELIGIOUSLY  KEPT  UP,  IN  THESE  DEGENERATE 
TIMES 

As  brisk  as  bees,  if  not  altogether  as  light  as  fairies, 
did  the  four  Pickwickians  assemble  on  the  morning 
of  the  twenty-second  day  of  December,  in  the  year 
of  grace  in  which  these,  their  faithfully-recorded  ad- 
ventures, were  undertaken  and  accomplished.  Christ- 
mas was  close  at  hand,  in  all  his  bluff  and  hearty 
honesty;  it  was  the  season  of  hospitality,  merriment, 
and  open-heartedness ;  the  old  year  was  preparing, 
like  an  ancient  philosopher,  to  call  his  friends  around 


492  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

him,  and  amidst  the  sound  of  feasting  and  revelry 
to  pass  gently  and  calmly  away.  Gay  and  merry  was 
the  time,  and  gay  and  merry  were  at  least  four  of  the 
numerous  hearts  that  were  gladdened  by  its  coming. 

And  numerous  indeed  are  the  hearts  to  which 
Christmas  brings  a  brief  season  of  happiness  and  en- 
joyment. How  many  families,  whose  members  have 
been  dispersed  and  scattered  far  and  wide,  in  the  rest- 
less struggles  of  life,  are  then  re-united,  and  meet 
once  again  in  that  happy  state  of  companionship  and 
mutual  good-will,  which  is  a  source  of  such  pure  and 
unalloyed  delight,  and  one  so  incompatible  with  the 
cares  and  sorrows  of  the  world,  that  the  religious  be- 
lief of  the  most  civilised  nations,  and  the  rude  tradi- 
tions of  the  roughest  savages,  alike  number  it  among 
the  first  joys  of  a  future  condition  of  existence,  pro- 
vided for  the  bles"t  and  happy !  How  many  old  recol- 
lections, and  how  many  dormant  sympathies,  does 
Christmas  time  awaken ! 

We  write  these  words  now,  many  miles  distant  from 
the  spot  at  which,  year  after  year,  we  met  on  that 
day,  a  merry  and  joyous  circle.  Many  of  the  hearts 
that  throbbed  so  gaily  then,  have  ceased  to  beat ;  many 
of  the  looks  that  shone  so  brightly  then,  have  ceased 
to  glow;  the  hands  we  grasped,  have  grown  cold;  the 
eyes  we  sought,  have  hid  their  lustre  in  the  grave; 
and  yet  the  old  house,  the  room,  the  merry  voices  and 
smiling  faces,  the  jest,  the  laugh,  the  most  minute 
and  trivial  circumstances  connected  with  those  happy 
meetings,  crowd  upon  our  mind  at  each  recurrence  of 
the  season,  as  if  the  last  assemblage  had  been  but 
yesterday!  Happy,  happy  Christmas,  that  can  win 
us  back  to  the  delusions  of  our  childish  days ;  that  can 
recall  to  the  old  man  the  pleasures  of  his  youth;  that 
can  transport  the  sailor  and  the  traveller,  thousands 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  493 

of  miles  away,  back  to  his  own  fireside  and  his  quiet 
home! 

But  we  are  so  taken  up  and  occupied  with  the  good 
qualities  of  this  saint  Christmas,  that  we  are  keeping 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  waiting  in  the  cold  on 
the  outside  of  the  Muggleton  coach,  which  they  have 
just  attained,  well  wrapped  up  in  great-coats,  shawls, 
and  comforters.  The  portmanteaus  and  carpet-bags 
have  been  stowed  away,  and  Mr.  Weller  and  the  guard 
are  endeavouring  to  insinuate  into  the  fore-boot  a 
huge  cod-fish  several  sizes  too  large  for  it — which  is 
snugly  packed  up,  in  a  long  brown  basket,  with  a 
layer  of  straw  over  the  top,  and  which  has  been  left 
to  the  last,  in  order  that  he  may  repose  in  safety  on 
the  half-dozen  barrels  of  real  native  oysters,  all  the 
property  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  which  have  been  arranged 
in  regular  order  at  the  bottom  of  the  receptacle.  The 
interest  displayed  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  is 
most  intense,  as  Mr.  Weller  and  the  guard  try  to 
squeeze  the  cod-fish  into  the  boot,  first  head  first,  and 
then  tail  first,  and  then  top  upward,  and  then  bottom 
upward,  and  then  side-ways,  and  then  long-ways,  all 
of  which  artifices  the  implacable  cod-fish  sturdily  re- 
sists, until  the  guard  accidentally  hits  him  in  the  very 
middle  of  the  basket,  whereupon  he  suddenly  disap- 
pears into  the  boot,  and  with  him,  the  head  and  shoul- 
ders of  the  guard  himself,  who,  not  calculating  upon 
so  sudden  a  cessation  of  the  passive  resistance  of  the 
cod-fish,  experiences  a  very  unexpected  shock,  to  the 
unsmotherable  delight  of  all  the  porters  and  bystand- 
ers. Upon  this,  Mr.  Pickwick  smiles  with  great 
good-humour,  and  drawing  a  shilling  from  his  waist- 
coat pocket,  begs  the  guard,  as  he  picks  himself  out 
of  the  boot,  to  drink  his  health  in  a  glass  of  hot  brandy- 
and-water;  at  which  the  guard  smiles  too,  and  Messrs. 


494  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and  Tupman,  all  smile  in  com- 
pany. The  guard  and  Mr.  Weller  disappear  for  five 
minutes:  most  probably  to  get  the  hot  brandy-and- 
water,  for  they  smell  very  strongly  of  it,  when  they 
return,  the  coachman  mounts  to  the  box,  Mr.  Weller 
jumps  up  behind,  the  Pickwickians  pull  their  coats 
round  their  legs  and  their  shawls  over  their  noses,  the 
helpers  pull  the  horse-cloths  off,  the  coachman  shouts 
out  a  cheery  'All  right,'  and  away  they  go. 

They  have  rumbled  through  the  streets,  and  jolted 
over  the  stones,  and  at  length  reach  the  wide  and  open 
country.  The  wheels  skim  over  the  hard  and  frosty 
ground:  and  the  horses,  bursting  into  a  canter  at  a 
smart  crack  of  the  whip,  step  along  the  road,  as  if  the 
load  behind  them:  coach,  passengers,  cod-fish,  oyster 
barrels,  and  all:  were  but  a  feather  at  their  heels. 
They  have  descended  a  gentle  slope,  and  enter  upon 
a  level,  as  compact  and  dry  as  a  solid  block  of  marble, 
two  miles  long.  Another  crack  of  the  whip,  and  on 
they  speed,  at  a  smart  gallop :  the  horses  tossing  their 
heads  and  rattling  the  harness,  as  if  in  exhilaration 
at  the  rapidity  of  the  motion:  while  the  coachman, 
holding  whip  and  reins  in  one  hand,  takes  off  his  hat 
with  the  other,  and  resting  it  on  his  knees,  pulls  out 
his  handkerchief,  and  wipes  his  forehead:  partly  be- 
cause he  has  a  habit  of  doing  it,  and  partly  because 
it 's  as  well  to  show  the  passengers  how  cool  he  is, 
and  what  an  easy  thing  it  is  to  drive  four-in-hand, 
when  you  have  had  as  much  practice  as  he  has.  Hav- 
ing done  this  very  leisurely  (otherwise  the  effect 
would  be  materially  impaired),  he  replaces  his  hand- 
kerchief, pulls  on  his  hat,  adjusts  his  gloves,  squares 
his  elbows,  cracks  the  whip  again,  and  on  they  speed, 
more  merrily  than  before. 

A  few  small  houses,  scattered  on  either  side  of  the 
road,  betoken  the  entrance  to  some  town  or  village. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  495 

The  lively  notes  of  the  guard's  key-bugle  vibrate  in 
the  clear  cold  air,  and  wake  up  the  old  gentleman 
inside,  who,  carefully  letting  down  the  window-sash 
half-way,  and  standing  sentry  over  the  air,  takes  a 
short  peep  out,  and  then  carefully  pulling  it  up  again, 
informs  the  other  inside  that  they  're  going  to  change 
directly ;  on  which  the  other  inside  wakes  himself  up, 
and  determines  to  postpone  his  next  nap  until  after 
the  stoppage.  Again  the  bugle  sounds  lustily  forth, 
and  rouses  the  cottager's  wife  and  children,  who  peep 
out  at  the  house-door,  and  watch  the  coach  till  it 
turns  the  corner,  when  they  once  more  crouch  round 
the  blazing  fire,  and  throw  on  another  log  of  wood 
against  father  comes  home;  while  father  himself, 
a  full  mile  off,  has  just  exchanged  a  friendly  nod 
with  the  coachman,  and  turned  round  to  take  a  good 
long  stare  at  the  vehicle  as  it  whirls  away. 

And  now  the  bugle  plays  a  lively  air  as  the  coach 
rattles  through  tlie  ill-paved  streets  of  a  country- 
town;  and  the  coachman,  undoing  the  buckle  which 
keeps  his  ribands  together,  prepares  to  throw  them 
off  the  moment  he  stops.  Mr.  Pickwick  emerges 
from  his  coat  collar,  and  looks  about  him  with  great 
curiosity;  perceiving  which,  the  coachman  informs 
Mr.  Pickwick  of  the  name  of  the  town  and  tells  him 
it  was  market-day  yesterday,  both  of  which  pieces  of 
information  Mr.  Pickwick  retails  to  his  fellow-pas- 
sengers; whereupon  they  emerge  from  their  coat 
collars  too,  and  look  about  them  also.  Mr.  Winkle, 
who  sits  at  the  extreme  edge,  with  one  leg  dangling 
in  the  air,  is  nearly  precipitated  into  the  street,  as 
the  coach  twists  round  the  sharp  corner  by  the  cheese- 
monger's shop,  and  turns  into  the  market-place;  and 
before  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  sits  next  to  him,  has  re- 
covered from  his  alarm,  they  pull  up  at  the  inn  yard, 
where  the  fresh  horses,  with  cloths  on,  are  already 


496 

waiting.  The  coachman  throws  down  the  reins  and 
gets  down  himself,  and  the  other  outside  passengers 
drop  down  also:  except  those  who  have  no  great  con- 
fidence in  their  ability  to  get  up  again:  and  they 
remain  where  they  are,  and  stamp  their  feet  against 
the  coach  to  warm  them — looking,  with  longing  eyes 
and  red  noses,  at  the  bright  fire  in  the  inn  bar,  and 
the  sprigs  of  holly  with  red  berries  which  ornament 
the  window. 

But  the  guard  has  delivered  at  the  corn-dealer's  shop 
the  brown-paper  packet  he  took  out  of  the  little  pouch 
which  hangs  over  his  shoulder  by  a  leather  strap ;  and 
has  seen  the  horses  carefully  put  to;  and  has  thrown 
on  the  pavement  the  saddle  which  was  brought  from 
London  on  the  coach-roof;  and  has  assisted  in  the  con- 
ference between  the  coachman  and  the  hostler  about 
the  grey  mare  that  hurt  her  off -fore-leg  last  Tuesday ; 
and  he  and  Mr.  Weller  are  all  right  behind,  and  the 
coachman  is  all  right  in  front,  and 'the  old  gentleman 
inside,  who  has  kept  the  window  down  full  two  inches 
all  this  time,  has  pulled  it  up  again,  and  the  cloths 
are  off,  and  they  are  all  ready  for  starting,  except 
the  'two  stout  gentlemen,'  whom  the  coachman  inquires 
after  with  some  impatience.  Hereupon  the  coach- 
man, and  the  guard,  and  Sam  Weller,  and  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  all  the  hostlers,  and 
every  one  of  the  idlers,  who  are  more  in  number  than 
all  the  others  put  together,  shout  for  the  missing  gen- 
tlemen as  loud  as  they  can  bawl.  A  distant  response 
is  heard  from  the  yard,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr. 
Tupman  come  running  down  it,  quite  out  of  breath, 
for  they  have  been  having  a  glass  of  ale  a-piece,  and 
Mr.  Pickwick's  fingers  are  so  cold  that  he  has  been 
full  five  minutes  before  he  could  find  the  sixpence  to 
pay  for  it.  The  coachman  shouts  an  admonitory 
'Now  then,  gen'l'm'n !'  the  guard  re-echoes  it ;  the  old 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  497 

gentleman  inside  thinks  it  a  very  extraordinary  thing 
that  people  will  get  down  when  they  know  there  isn't 
time  for  it;  Mr.  Pickwick  struggles  up  on  one  side, 
Mr.  Tupman  on  the  other;  Mr.  Winkle  cries  'All 
right';  and  off  they  start.  Shawls  are  pulled  up, 
coat  collars  are  re-adjusted,  the  pavement  ceases,  the 
houses  disappear,  and  they  are  once  again  dashing 
along  the  open  road,  with  the  fresh  clear  air  blowing 
in  their  faces,  and  gladdening  their  very  hearts  within 
them. 

Such  was  the  progress  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends  by  the  Muggleton  Telegraph,  on  their  way  to 
Dingley  Dell ;  and  at  three  o'clock  that  afternoon  they 
all  stood,  high  and  dry,  safe  and  sound,  hale  and 
hearty,  upon  the  steps  of  the  Blue  Lion,  having  taken 
on  the  road  quite  enough  of  ale  and  brandy  to  enable 
them  to  bid  defiance  to  the  frost  that  was  binding  up 
the  earth  in  its  iron  fetters,  and  weaving  its  beautiful 
net-work  upon  the  trees  and  hedges.  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  busily  engaged  in  counting  the  barrels  of  oysters 
and  superintending  the  disinterment  of  the  cod-fish, 
when  he  felt  himself  gently  pulled  by  the  skirts  of 
the  coat.  Looking  round,  he  discovered  that  the  indi- 
vidual who  resorted  to  this  mode  of  catching  his  atten- 
tion was  no  other  than  Mr.  Wardle's  favourite  page, 
better  known  to  the  readers  of  this  unvarnished  his- 
tory, by  the  distinguishing  appellation  of  the  fat  boy. 

'Aha !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Aha!'  said  the  fat  boy. 

As  he  said  it,  he  glanced  from  the  cod-fish  to  the 
oyster-barrels,  and  chuckled  joyously.  He  was  fatter 
than  ever. 

'Well,  you  look  rosy  enough,  my  young  friend,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  've  been  asleep,  right  in  front  of  the  tap-room 
fire,'  replied  the  fat  boy,  who  had  heated  himself  to 


498  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  colour  of  a  new  chimney-pot,  in  the  course  of  an 
hour's  nap.  'Master  sent  me  over  with  the  shay-cart, 
to  carry  your  luggage  up  to  the  house.  He  'd  ha' 
sent  some  saddle-horses,  but  he  thought  you  'd  rather 
walk,  being  a  cold  day.' 

'Yes,  yes/  said  Mr.  Pickwick.,  hastily,  for  he  re- 
membered how  they  had  travelled  over  nearly  the 
same  ground  on  a  previous  occasion.  'Yes,  we  would 
rather  walk.  Here,  Sam!' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Help  Mr.  Wardle's  servant  to  put  the  packages 
into  the  cart,  and  then  ride  on  with  him.  We  will 
walk  forward  at  once.' 

Having  given  this  direction,  and  settled  with  the 
coachman,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  friends  struck 
into  the  footpath  across  the  fields,  and  walked  briskly 
away,  leaving  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy  confronted 
together  for  the  first  time.  Sam  looked  at  the  fat 
boy  with  great  astonishment,  but  without  saying  a 
word;  and  began  to  stow  the  luggage  rapidly  away 
in  the  cart,  while  the  fat  boy  stood  quietly  by,  and 
seemed  to  think  it  a  very  interesting  sort  of  thing  to 
see  Mr.  Weller  working  by  himself. 

'There,'  said  Sam,  throwing  in  the  last  carpet-bag. 
'There  they  are !' 

'Yes,'  said  the  fat  boy,  in  a  very  satisfied  tone, 
'there  they  are.' 

'Veil,  young  twenty  stun,'  said  Sam,  'you  're  a  nice 
specimen  of  a  prize  boy,  you  are !' 

'Thank  'ee,'  said  the  fat  boy. 

'You  ain't  got  nothin'  on  your  mind  as  makes  you 
fret  yourself,  have  you  ?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Not  as  I  knows  on,'  replied  the  fat  boy. 

'I  should  rayther  ha'  thought,  to  look  at  you,  that 
you  was  a  labourin'  under  an  unrequited  attachment 
to  some  young  'ooman,'  said  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  499 

The  fat  boy  shook  his  head. 

'Veil,'  said  Sam,  'I  'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Do  you  ever 
drink  anythin'  ?' 

'I  likes  eating,  better,'  replied  the  boy. 

'Ah,'  said  Sam,  'I  should  ha'  s'posed  that;  but  what 
I  mean  is,  should  you  like  a  drop  of  anythin'  as  'd 
warm  you?  But  I  s'pose  you  never  was  cold,  with  all 
them  elastic  fixtures,  was  you  ?' 

'Sometimes,'  replied  the  boy;  'and  I  likes  a  drop  of 
something,  when  it 's  good.' 

'Oh,  you  do,  do  you?'  said  Sam,  'come  this  way, 
then!' 

The  Blue  Lion  tap  was  soon  gained,  and  the  fat  boy 
swallowed  a  glass  of  liquor  without  so  much  as  wink- 
ing; a  feat  which  considerably  advanced  him  in  Mr. 
Weller's  good  opinion.  Mr.  Weller  having  trans- 
acted a  similar  piece  of  business  on  his  own  account, 
they  got  into  the  cart. 

'Can  you  drive?'  said  the  fat  boy. 

'I  should  rayther  think  so,'  replied  Sam. 

'There,  then,'  said  the  fat  boy,  putting  the  reins 
in  his  hand,  and  pointing  up  a  lane,  'it 's  as  straight 
as  you  can  go ;  you  can't  miss  it.' 

With  these  words,  the  fat  boy  laid  himself  affec- 
tionately down  by  the  side  of  the  cod-fish :  and  placing 
an  oyster-barrel  under  his  head  for  a  pillow,  fell 
asleep  instantaneously. 

'Well,'  said  Sam,  'of  all  the  cool  boys  ever  I  set 
my  eyes  on,  this  here  young  gen'l'm'n  is  the  coolest. 
Come,  wake  up,  young  dropsy!' 

But  as  young  dropsy  evinced  no  symptoms  of  re- 
turning animation,  Sam  Weller  sat  himself  down  in 
front  of  the  cart,  and  starting  the  old  horse  with  a 
jerk  of  the  rein,  jogged  steadily  on,  towards  Manor 
Farm. 

Mean  while,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  having 


500  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

walked  their  blood  into  active  circulation,  proceeded 
cheerfully  on.  The  paths  were  hard;  the  grass  was 
crisp  and  frosty;  the  air  had  a  fine,  dry,  bracing 
coldness ;  and  the  rapid  approach  of  the  grey  twilight 
(slate-coloured  is  a  better  term  in  frosty  weather) 
made  them  look  forward  with  pleasant  anticipation 
to  the  comforts  which  awaited  them  at  their  hospitable 
entertainer's.  It  was  the  sort  of  afternoon  that  might 
induce  a  couple  of  elderly  gentlemen,  in  a  lonely 
field,  to  take  off  their  great-coats  and  play  at  leap- 
frog in  pure  lightness  of  heart  and  gaiety;  and  we 
firmly  believe  that  had  Mr.  Tupman  at  that  moment 
proffered  'a  back,'  Mr.  Pickwick  would  have  accepted 
his  offer  with  the  utmost  avidity. 

However,  Mr.  Tupman  did  not  volunteer  any  such 
accommodation,  and  the  friends  walked  on,  convers- 
ing merrily.  As  they  turned  into  a  lane  they  had  to 
cross,  the  sound  of  many  voices  burst  upon  their  ears ; 
and  before  they  had  even  had  time  to  form  a  guess  to 
whom  they  belonged,  they  walked  into  the  very  centre 
of  the  party  who  were  expecting  their  arrival — a 
fact  which  was  first  notified  to  the  Pickwickians,  by 
the  loud  'Hurrah,'  which  burst  from  old  Wardle's  lips, 
when  they  appeared  in  sight. 

First,  there  was  Wardle  himself,  looking,  if  possi- 
ble, more  jolly  than  ever;  then  there  were  Bella  and 
her  faithful  Trundle;  and,  lastly,  there  were  Emily 
and  some  eight  or  ten  young  ladies,  who  had  all  come 
down  to  the  wedding,  which  was  to  take  place  next 
day,  and  who  were  in  as  happy  and  important  a  state 
as  young  ladies  usually  are,  on  such  momentous  occa- 
sions; and  they  were,  one  and  all,  startling  the  fields 
and  lanes,  far  and  wide,  with  their  frolic  and  laughter. 

The  ceremony  of  introduction,  under  such  circum- 
stances, was  very  soon  performed,  or  we  should  rather 
say  that  the  introduction  was  soon  over,  without  any 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  501 

ceremony  at  all.  In  two  minutes  thereafter,  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  joking  with  the  young  ladies  who 
wouldn't  come  over  the  stile  while  he  looked — or  who, 
having  pretty  feet  and  unexceptionable  ankles,  pre- 
ferred standing  on  the  top-rail  for  five  minutes  or 
so,  declaring  that  they  were  too  frightened  to  move — 
with  as  much  ease  and  absence  of  reserve  or  constraint, 
as  if  he  had  known  them  for  life.  It  is  worthy  of 
remark,  too,  that  Mr.  Snodgrass  offered  Emily  far 
more  assistance  than  the  absolute  terrors  of  the  stile 
(although  it  was  full  three  feet  high,  and  had  only 
a  couple  of  stepping-stones)  would  seem  to  require; 
while  one  black-eyed  young  lady  in  a  very  nice  little 
pair  of  boots  with  fur  round  the  top,  was  observed 
to  scream  very  loudly,  when  Mr.  Winkle  offered  to 
help  her  over. 

All  this  was  very  snug  and  pleasant.  And  when 
the  difficulties  of  the  stile  were  at  last  surmounted, 
and  they  once  more  entered  on  the  open  field,  old 
Wardle  informed  Mr.  Pickwick  how  they  had  all 
been  down  in  a  body  to  inspect  the  furniture  and 
fittings-up  of  the  house,  which  the  young  couple  were 
to  tenant,  after  the  Christmas  holidays;  at  which 
communication  Bella  and  Trundle  both  coloured  up, 
as  red  as  the  fat  boy  after  the  tap-room  fire ;  and  the 
young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  and  the  fur  round 
the  boots,  whispered  something  in  Emily's  ear,  and 
then  glanced  archly  at  Mr.  Snodgrass:  to  which  Emily 
responded  that  she  was  a  foolish  girl,  but  turned  very 
red,  notwithstanding;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  was 
as  modest  as  all  great  geniuses  usually  are,  felt  the 
crimson  rising  to  the  crown  of  his  head,  and  devoutly 
wished  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  own  heart  that 
the  young  lady  aforesaid,  with  her  black  eyes,  and  her 
archness,  and  her  boots  with  the  fur  round  the  top, 
were  all  comfortably  deposited  in  the  adjacent  county. 


502  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

But  if  they  were  social  and  happy  outside  the 
he  use,  what  was  the  warmth  and  cordiality  of  their 
reception  when  they  reached  the  farm!  The  very 
servants  grinned  with  pleasure  at  sight  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; and  Emma  bestowed  a  half -demure,  half -impu- 
dent, and  all  pretty,  look  of  recognition,  on  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  which  was  enough  to  make  the  statue  of 
Bonaparte  in  the  passage,  unfold  his  arms,  and  clasp 
her  within  them. 

The  old  lady  was  seated  in  customary  state  in  the 
front  parlour,  but  she  was  rather  cross,  and,  by  con- 
sequence, most  particularly  deaf.  She  never  went 
out  herself,  and  like  a  great  many  other  old  ladies 
of  the  same  stamp,  she  was  apt  to  consider  it  an  act 
of  domestic  treason,  if  anybody  else  took  the  liberty 
of  doing  what  she  couldn't.  So,  bless  her  old  soul, 
she  sat  as  upright  as  she  could,  in  her  great  chair,  and 
looked  as  fierce  as  might  be — and  that  was  benevolent 
after  all. 

'Mother,'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  'Mr.  Pickwick.  You 
recollect  him?' 

'Never  mind,'  replied  the  old  lady  with  great  dig- 
nity. 'Don't  trouble  Mr.  Pickwick  about  an  old 
creetur  like  me.  Nobody  cares  about  me  now,  and 
it 's  very  nat'ral  they  shouldn't.'  Here  the  old  lady 
tossed  her  head,  and  smoothed  down  her  lavender- 
coloured  silk  dress,  with  trembling  hands. 

'Come,  come,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *I  can't 
let  you  cut  an  old  friend  in  this  way.  I  have  come 
down  expressly  to  have  a  long  talk,  and  another 
rubber  with  you ;  and  we  '11  show  these  boys  and  girls 
how  to  dance  a  minuet,  before  they  're  eight -and- 
f  orty  hours  older.' 

The  old  lady  was  rapidly  giving  way,  but  she  did 
not  like  to  do  it  all  at  once;  so  she  only  said,  'Ah!  I 
can't  hear  him!' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  503 


'Nonsense,  mother,'  said  Wardle.  'Come,  come, 
don't  be  cross,  there  's  a  good  soul.  Recollect  Bella; 
come,  you  must  keep  her  spirits  up,  poor  girl.' 

The  good  old  lady  heard  this,  for  her  lip  quivered 
as  her  son  said  it.  But  age  has  its  little  infirmities 
of  temper,  and  she  was  not  quite  brought  round  yet. 
So,  she  smoothed  down  the  lavender-coloured  dress 
again,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said,  'Ah,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  young  people  was  very  different,  when  I 
was  a  girl.' 

'No  doubt  of  that,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'and 
that 's  the  reason  why  I  would  make  much  of  the  few 
that  have  any  traces  of  the  old  stock,' — and  saying 
this,  Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pulled  Bella  towards  him, 
and  bestowing  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  bade  her 
sit  down  on  the  little  stool  at  her  grandmother's  feet. 
Whether  the  expression  of  her  countenance,  as  it  was 
raised  towards  the  old  lady's  face,  called  up  a  thought 
of  old  times,  or  whether  the  old  lady  was  touched 
by  Mr.  Pickwick's  affectionate  good  nature,  or  what- 
ever was  the  cause,  she  was  fairly  melted;  so  she 
threw  herself  on  her  granddaughter's  neck,  and  all  the 
little  ill-humour  evaporated  in  a  gush  of  silent  tears. 

A  happy  party  they  were,  that  night.  Sedate  and 
solemn  were  the  score  of  rubbers  in  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  the  old  lady  played  together;  uproarious 
was  the  mirth  of  the  round  table.  Long  after  the 
ladies  had  retired,  did  the  hot  elder  wine,  well  quali- 
fied with  brandy  and  spice,  go  round,  and  round,  and 
round  again;  and  sound  was  the  sleep  and  pleasant 
were  the  dreams  that  followed.  It  is  a  remarkable 
fact  that  those  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  constant  refer- 
ence to  Emily  Wardle;  and  that  the  principal  figure 
in  Mr.  Winkle's  visions  was  a  young  lady  with  black 
eyes,  an  arch  smile,  and  a  pair  of  remarkably  nice 
boots  with  fur  round  the  tops. 


504  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  awakened,  early  in  the  morning, 
by  a  hum  of  voices  and  a  pattering  of  feet,  sufficient 
to  rouse  even  the  fat  boy  from  his  heavy  slumbers. 
He  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened.  The  female  servants 
and  female  visitors  were  running  constantly  to  and 
fro;  and  there  were  such  multitudinous  demands  for 
hot  water,  such  repeated  outcries  for  needles  and 
thread,  and  so  many  half -suppressed  entreaties  of 
'Oh,  do  come  and  tie  me,  there's  a  dear!'  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  in  his  innocence  began  to  imagine  that 
something  dreadful  must  have  occurred:  when  he 
grew  more  awake,  and  remembered  the  wedding. 
The  occasion  being  an  important  one,  he  dressed  him- 
self with  peculiar  care,  and  descended  to  the  break- 
fast-room. 

There  were  all  the  female  servants  in  a  brand  new 
uniform  of  pink  muslin  gowns  with  white  bows  in 
their  caps,  running  about  the  house  in  a  state  of  ex- 
citement and  agitation  which  it  would  be  impossible 
to  describe.  The  old  lady  was  dressed  out  in  a 
brocaded  gown  which  had  not  seen  the  light  for 
twenty  years,  saving  and  excepting  such  truant  rays 
as  had  stolen  through  the  chinks  in  the  box  in  which  it 
had  been  lain  by,  during  the  whole  time.  Mr.  Trundle 
was  in  high  feather  and  spirits,  but  a  little  nervous 
withal.  The  hearty  old  landlord  was  trying  to  look 
very  cheerful  and  unconcerned,  but  failing  signally 
in  the  attempt.  All  the  girls  were  in  tears  and  white 
muslin,  except  a  select  two  or  three  who  were  being 
honoured  with  a  private  view  of  the  bride  and  brides- 
maids, upstairs.  All  the  Pickwickians  were  in  most 
blooming  array;  and  there  was  a  terrific  roaring  on 
the  grass  in  the  front  of  the  house,  occasioned  by  all 
the  men,  boys,  and  hobbledehoys  attached  to  the  farm, 
each  of  whom  had  got  a  white  bow  in  his  button-hole, 
and  all  of  whom  were  cheering  with  might  and  main : 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  505 

being  incited  thereunto,  and  stimulated  therein,  by 
the  precept  and  example  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who 
had  managed  to  become  mighty  popular  already,  and 
was  as  much  at  home  as  if  he  had  been  born  on  the 
Jand. 

A  wedding  is  a  licensed  subject  to  joke  upon,  but 
there  really  is  no  great  joke  in  the  matter  after  all; 
—we  speak  merely  of  the  ceremony,  and  beg  it  to  be 
distinctly  understood  that  we  indulge  in  no  hidden 
sarcasm  upon  a  married  life.  Mixed  up  with  the 
pleasure  and  joy  of  the  occasion,  are  the  many  re- 
grets at  quitting  home,  the  tears  of  parting  between 
parent  and  child,  the  consciousness  of  leaving  the 
dearest  and  kindest  friends  of  the  happiest  portion 
of  human  life,  to  encounter  its  cares  and  troubles 
with  others  still  untried  and  little  known:  natural 
feelings  which  we  would  not  render  this  chapter 
mournful  by  describing,  and  which  we  should  be  still 
more  unwilling  to  be  supposed  to  ridicule. 

Let  us  briefly  say,  then,  that  the  ceremony  was  per- 
formed by  the  old  clergyman  in  the  parish  church  of 
Dingley  Dell,  and  that  Mr.  Pickwick's  name  is  at- 
tached to  the  register,  still  preserved  in  the  vestry 
thereof;  that  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes 
signed  her  name  in  a  very  unsteady  and  tremulous 
manner;  that  Emily's  signature,  as  the  other  brides- 
maid, is  nearly  illegible;  that  it  all  went  off  in  very 
admirable  style;  that  the  young  ladies  generally 
thought  it  far  less  shocking  than  they  had  expected; 
and  that  although  the  owner  of  the  black  eyes  and 
the  arch  smile  informed  Mr.  Winkle  that  she  was 
sure  she  could  never  submit  to  anything  so  dreadful, 
we  have  the  very  best  reasons  for  thinking  she  was 
mistaken.  To  all  this,  we  may  add,  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  the  first  who  saluted  the  bride,  and  that 
in  so  doing  he  threw  over  her  neck  a  rich  gold  watch 


506  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  chain,  which  no  mortal  eyes  but  the  jeweller's 
had  ever  beheld  before.  Then,  the  old  church  bell 
rang  as  gaily  as  it  could,  and  they  all  returned  to 
breakfast. 

'Vere  does  the  mince  pies  go,  young  opium  eater?' 
said  Mr.  Weller  to  the  fat  boy,  as  he  assisted  in 
laying  out  such  articles  of  consumption  as  had  not 
been  duly  arranged  on  the  previous  night. 

The  fat  boy  pointed  to  the  destination  of  the  pies. 

'Wery  good,'  said  Sam,  'stick  a  bit  o'  Christmas  in 
'em.  T'other  dish  opposite.  There;  now  we  look 
compact  and  comfortable,  as  the  father  said  ven  he 
cut  his  little  boy's  head  off,  to  cure  him  o'  squintin'.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  the  comparison,  he  fell  back 
a  step  or  two,  to  give  full  effect  to  it,  and  surveyed 
the  preparations  with  the  utmost  satisfaction. 

'Wardle,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  as  soon  as  they 
were  all  seated,  'a  glass  of  wine,  in  honour  of  this 
happy  occasion!' 

'I  shall  be  delighted,  my  boy/  said  Wardle.  'Joe 
— damn  that  boy,  he  's  gone  to  sleep.' 

'No,  I  ain't,  sir,'  replied  the  fat  boy,  starting  up 
from  a  remote  corner,  where,  like  the  patron  saint 
of  fat  boys — the  immortal  Horner — he  had  been 
devouring  a  Christmas  pie :  though  not  with  the  cool- 
ness and  deliberation  which  characterised  that  young 
gentleman's  proceedings. 

'Fill  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass.' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

The  fat  boy  filled  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass,  and  then 
retired  behind  his  master's  chair,  from  whence  he 
watched  the  play  of  the  knives  and  forks,  and  the 
progress  of  the  choice  morsels  from  the  dishes  to  the 
mouths  of  the  company,  with  a  kind  of  dark  and 
gloomy  joy  that  was  most  impressive. 

'God  bless  you,  old  fellow !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  507 

'Same  to  you,  my  boy,'  replied  Wardle;  and  they 
pledged  each  other,  heartily. 

'Mrs.  Wardle,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'we  old  folks 
must  have  a  glass  of  wine  together,  in  honour  of  this 
joyful  event.' 

The  old  lady  was  in  a  state  of  great  grandeur  just 
then,  for  she  was  sitting  at  the  top  of  the  table  in 
the  brocaded  gown,  with  her  newly-married  grand- 
daughter on  one  side  and  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  other, 
to  do  the  carving.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  spoken 
in  a  very  loud  tone,  but  she  understood  him  at  once, 
and  drank  off  a  full  glass  of  wine  to  his  long  life  and 
happiness;  after  which  the  worthy  old  soul  launched 
forth  into  a  minute  and  particular  account  of  her 
own  wedding,  with  a  dissertation  on  the  fashion  of 
wearing  high-heeled  shoes,  and  some  particulars  con- 
cerning the  life  and  adventures  of  the  beautiful  Lady 
Tollimglower,  deceased:  at  all  of  which  the  old  lady 
herself  laughed  very  heartily  indeed,  and  so  did  the 
young  ladies  too,  for  they  were  wondering  among 
themselves  what  on  earth  grandma  was  talking  about. 
When  they  laughed,  the  old  lady  laughed  ten  times 
more  heartily,  and  said  that  these  always  had  been 
considered  capital  stories:  which  caused  them  all  to 
laugh  again,  and  put  the  old  lady  into  the  very  best 
of  humours.  Then,  the  cake  was  cut,  and  passed 
through  the  ring;  the  young  ladies  saved  pieces  to 
put  under  their  pillows  to  dream  of  their  future  hus- 
bands on ;  and  a  great  deal  of  blushing  and  merriment 
was  thereby  occasioned. 

'Mr.  Miller,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  his  old  acquaint- 
ance the  hard-headed  gentleman,  'a  glass  of  wine?' 

'With  great  satisfaction,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  replied 
the  hard-headed  gentleman,  solemnly. 

'You'll  take  me  in?'  said  the  benevolent  old  gen- 
tleman. 


508  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'And  me/  interposed  his  wife. 

'And  me,  and  me,'  said  a  couple  of  poor  relations 
at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  who  had  eaten  and  drank 
very  heartily,  and  laughed  at  everything. 

Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  his  heartfelt  delight  at 
every  additional  suggestion ;  and  his  eyes  beamed  with 
hilarity  and  cheerfulness. 

'Ladies  and  gentlemen/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sud- 
denly rising. 

'Hear,  hear!  Hear,  hear!  Hear,  hear!'  cried  Mr. 
Weller,  in  the  excitement  of  his  feelings. 

'Call  in  all  the  servants/  cried  old  Wardle,  inter- 
posing to  prevent  the  public  rebuke  which  Mr.  Weller 
would  otherwise  most  indubitably  have  received  from 
his  master.  'Give  them  a  glass  of  wine  each,  to  drink 
the  toast  in.  Now,  Pickwick.' 

Amidst  the  silence  of  the  company,  the  whispering 
of  the  women  servants,  and  the  awkward  embarrass- 
ment of  the  men,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded. 

'Ladies  and  gentlemen — no,  I  won't  say  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  '11  call  you  my  friends,  my  dear  friends, 
if  the  ladies  will  allow  me  to  take  so  great  a  liberty- 
Here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  interrupted  by  immense 
applause  from  the  ladies,  echoed  by  the  gentlemen, 
during  which  the  owner  of  the  eyes  was  distinctly 
heard  to  state  that  she  could  kiss  that  dear  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. Whereupon  Mr.  Winkle  gallantly  inquired 
if  it  couldn't  be  done  by  deputy :  to  which  the  young 
lady  with  the  black  eyes  replied,  'Go  away' — and  ac- 
companied the  request  with  a  look  which  said  as 
plainly  as  a  look  could  do — 'if  you  can.' 

'My  dear  friends/  resumed  M**.  Pickwick,  'I  am 
going  to  propose  the  health  of  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom— God  bless  'em  (cheers  and  tears).  My 
young  friend,  Trundle,  I  believe  to  be  a  very  ex- 
cellent and  manly  fellow;  and  his  wife  I  know  to  be 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  509 

a  very  amiable  and  lovely  girl,  well  qualified  to  trans- 
fer to  another  sphere  of  action  the  happiness  which 
for  twenty  years  she  has  diffused  around  her,  in  her 
father's  house.  (Here,  the  fat  boy  burst  forth  into 
stentorian  blubberings,  and  was  led  forth  by  the  coat 
collar,  by  Mr.  Weller.)  I  wish,'  added  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'I  wish  I  was  young  enough  to  be  her  sister's 
husband  (cheers),  but,  failing  that,  I  am  happy  to 
be  old  enough  to  be  her  father;  for,  being  so,  I  shall 
not  be  suspected  of  any  latent  designs  when  I  say, 
that  I  admire,  esteem,  and  love  them  both  (cheers 
and  sobs).  The  bride's  father,  our  good  friend 
there,  is  a  noble  person,  and  I  am  proud  to  know  him 
(great  uproar).  He  is  a  kind,  excellent,  independ- 
ent-spirited, fine-hearted,  hospitable,  liberal  man 
(enthusiastic  shouts  from  the  poor  relations,  at  all 
the  adjectives;  and  especially  at  the  two  last).  That 
his  daughter  may  enjoy  all  the  happiness,  even  he 
can  desire;  and  that  he  may  derive  from  the  con- 
templation of  her  felicity  all  the  gratification  of  heart 
and  peace  of  mind  which  he  so  well  deserves,  is,  I  am 
persuaded,  our  united  wish.  So,  let  us  drink  their 
healths,  and  wish  them  prolonged  life,  and  every 
blessing!' 

Mr.  Pickwick  concluded  amidst  a  whirlwind  of  ap- 
plause; and  once  more  were  the  lungs  of  the  super- 
numeraries, under  Mr.  Weller's  command,  brought 
into  active  and  efficient  operation.  Mr.  Wardle  pro- 
posed Mr.  Pickwick;  Mr.  Pickwick  proposed  the  old 
lady.  Mr.  Snodgrass  proposed  Mr.  Wardle;  Mr. 
Wardle  proposed  Mr.  Snodgrass.  One  of  the  poor 
relations  proposed  Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  other  poor 
relation  proposed  Mr.  Winkle;  all  was  happiness  and 
festivity,  until  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  both 
the  poor  relations  beneath  the  table,  warned  the  party 
that  it  was  time  to  adjourn. 


510  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

At  dinner  they  met  again,  after  a  five-and-twenty 
mile  walk,  undertaken  by  the  males  at  Wardle's 
recommendation,  to  get  rid  of  the  effects  of  the  wine 
at  breakfast.  The  poor  relations  had  kept  in  bed 
all  day,  with  the  view  of  attaining  the  same  happy 
consummation,  but,  as  they  had  been  unsuccessful, 
they  stopped  there.  Mr.  Weller  kept  the  domestics 
in  a  state  of  perpetual  hilarity ;  and  the  fat  boy  divided 
his  time  into  small  alternate  allotments  of  eating  and 
sleeping. 

The  dinner  was  as  hearty  an  affair  as  the  breakfast, 
and  was  quite  as  noisy,  without  the  tears.  Then  came 
the  dessert  and  some  more  toasts.  Then  came  the  tea 
and  coffee ;  and  then,  the  ball. 

The  best  sitting-room  at  Manor  Farm  was  a  good, 
long,  dark-panelled  room  with  a  high  chimney-piece, 
and  a  capacious  chimney,  up  which  you  could  have 
driven  one  of  the  new  patent  cabs,  wheels  and  all. 
At  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  seated  in  a  shady 
bower  of  holly  and  evergreens,  were  the  two  best 
fiddlers,  and  the  only  harp,  in  all  Muggleton.  In 
all  sorts  of  recesses,  and  on  all  kinds  of  brackets, 
stood  massive  old  silver  candlesticks  with  four  branches 
each.  The  carpet  was  up,  the  candles  burnt  bright, 
the  fire  blazed  and  crackled  on  the  hearth,  and  merry 
voices  and  light-hearted  laughter  rang  through  the 
room.  If  any  of  the  old  English  yeomen  had  turned 
into  fairies  when  they  died,  it  was  just  the  place  in 
which  they  would  have  held  their  revels. 

If  anything  could  have  added  to  the  interest  of  this 
agreeable  scene,  it  would  have  been  the  remarkable 
fact  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearing  without  his  gaiters, 
for  the  first  time  within  the  memory  of  his  oldest 
friends. 

'You  mean  to  dance  ?'  said  Wardle. 

'Of  course  I  do,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Don't 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  511 

you  see  I  am  dressed  for  the  purpose?'  Mr.  Pick- 
wick called  attention  to  his  speckled  silk  stockings, 
and  smartly  tied  pumps. 

'You  in  silk  stockings!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman 
jocosely. 

'And  why  not,  sir — why  not?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
turning  warmly  upon  him. 

'O,  of  course  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
wear  them,'  responded  Mr.  Tupman. 

'I  imagine  not,  sir,  I  imagine  not,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick in  a  very  peremptory  tone. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  contemplated  a  laugh,  but  he 
found  it  was  a  serious  matter ;  so  he  looked  grave,  and 
said  they  were  a  pretty  pattern. 

'I  hope  they  are,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  his  friend.  'You  see  nothing  extraordinary  in 
the  stockings,  as  stockings,  I  trust,  sir?' 

'Certainly  not.  Oh  certainly  not,'  replied  Mr. 
Tupman.  He  walked  away;  and  Mr.  Pickwick's 
countenance  resumed  its  customary  benign  expression. 

'We  are  all  ready,  I  believe,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
who  was  stationed  with  the  old  lady  at  the  top  of  the 
dance,  and  had  already  made  four  false  starts,  in  hi? 
excessive  anxiety  to  commence. 

'Then  begin  at  once,'  said  Wardle.     'Now !' 

Up  struck  the  two  fiddles  and  the  one  harp,  and 
off  went  Mr.  Pickwick  into  hands  across,  when  there 
was  a  general  clapping  of  hands,  and  a  cry  of  'Stop 
stop!' 

'What's  the  matter?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was 
only  brought  to,  by  the  fiddles  and  harp  desisting, 
and  could  have  been  stopped  by  no  other  earthly 
power,  if  the  house  had  been  on  fire. 

'Where's  Arabella  AJlen?'  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

'And  Winkle?'  added  Mr.  Tupman. 

'Here  we  are !'  exclaimed  that  gentleman,  emerging 


512  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  his  pretty  companion  from  the  corner;  as  he  did 
so,  it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  which  was  the 
redder  in  the  face,  he  or  the  young  lady  with  the  black 
eyes. 

'What  an  extraordinary  thing  it  is,  Winkle,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  rather  pettishly,  'that  you  couldn't 
have  taken  your  place  before.' 

'Not  at  all  extraordinary/  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  very  expressive 
smile,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  Arabella,  'well,  I  don't 
know  that  it  was  extraordinary,  either,  after  all.' 

However,  there  was  no  time  to  think  more  about 
the  matter,  for  the  fiddles  and  harp  began  in  real 
earnest.  Away  went  Mr.  Pickwick — hands  across- 
down  the  middle  to  the  very  end  of  the  room,  and 
half-way  up  the  chimney,  back  again  to  the  door— 
poussette  everywhere — loud  stamp  on  the  ground- 
ready  for  the  next  couple — off  again; — all  the  figure 
over  once  more — another  stamp  to  beat  out  the  time- 
next  couple,  and  the  next,  and  the  next  again — never 
was  such  going!  At  last,  after  they  had  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  dance,  and  full  fourteen  couple  after 
the  old  lady  had  retired  in  an  exhausted  state,  and 
the  clergyman's  wife  had  been  substituted  in  her 
stead,  did  that  gentleman,  when  there  was  no  demand 
whatever  on  his  exertions,  keep  perpetually  dancing 
in  his  place,  to  keep  time  to  the  music :  smiling  on  his 
partner  all  the  while  with  a  blandness  of  demeanour 
which  baffles  all  description. 

Long  before  Mr.  Pickwick  was  weary  of  dancing, 
the  newly-married  couple  had  retired  from  the  scene. 
There  was  a  glorious  supper  downstairs,  notwithstand- 
ing, and  a  good  long  sitting  after  it;  and  when  Mr. 
Pickwick  awoke,  late  the  next  morning,  he  had  a  con- 
fused recollection  of  having,  severally  and  con- 
fidentially, invited  somewhere  about  five-and-forty 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  513 

people  to  dine  with  him  at  the  George  and  Vulture, 
the  very  first  time  they  came  to  London;  which  Mr. 
Pickwick  rightly  considered  a  pretty  certain  indica- 
tion of  his  having  taken  something 'besides  exercise^ 
on  the  previous  night. 

'And  so  your  family  has  games  in  the  kitchen  to- 
night, my  dear,  has  they?'  inquired  Sam  of  Emma. 

'Yes,  Mr.  Weller,'  replied  Emma;  'we  always  have 
on  Christmas  Eve.  Master  wouldn't  neglect  to  keep 
it  up  on  any  account/ 

'Your  master  's  a  wesy  pretty  notion  of  keepin' 
anythin'  up,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  'I  never  see 
such  a  sensible  sort  of  man  as  he  is,  or  such  a  reg'lar 
gen'l'm'n.' 

'Oh,  that  he  is!'  said  the  fat  boy,  joining  in  the 
conversation;  'don't  he  breed  nice  pork!'  The  fat 
youth  gave  a  semi-cannibalic  leer  at  Mr.  Weller,  as  he 
thought  of  the  roast  legs  and  gravy. 

'Oh,  you  've  woke  up  at  last,  have  you?'  said  Sam. 

The  fat  boy  nodded. 

'I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  boa-constructer/ 
said  Mr.  Weller,  impressively;  'if  you  don't  sleep  a 
little  less,  and  exercise  a  little  more,  when  you  comes 
to  be  a  man,  you  '11  lay  yourself  open  to  the  same  sort 
of  personal  inconwenience  as  wras  inflicted  on  the  old 
gen'l'm'n  as  wore  the  pigtail.' 

'What  did  they  do  to  him?'  inquired  the  fat  boy,  in 
a  faltering  voice. 

'I  'm  a-goin'  to  tell  you,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'he 
was  one  o'  the  largest  patterns  as  was  ever  turned  out 
—reg'lar  fat  man,  as  hadn't  caught  a  glimpse  of  his 
owrn  shoes  for  five-and-f orty  year.' 

'Lor!'  exclaimed  Emma. 

'Xo,  that  he  hadn't,  my  dear/  said  Mr.  Weller; 
'and  if  you  'd  put  an  exact  model  of  his  own  legs  on 
the  dinin'  table  afore  him,  he  wouldn't  ha'  known  'em. 


514  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Well,  he  always  walks  to  his  office  with  a  wery  hand- 
some gold  watch-chain  hanging  out,  about  a  foot  and 
a  quarter,  and  a  gold  watch  in  his  fob  pocket  as  was 
worth — I  'm  afraid  to  say  how  much,  but  as  much  as 
a  watch  can  be — a  large,  heavy,  round  manafacter, 
as  stout  for  a  watch,  as  he  was  for  a  man,  and  with  a 
big  face  in  proportion.  "You  'd  better  not  carry  that 
'ere  watch,"  says  the  old  gen'l'm'n's  friends,  "you  '11 
be  robbed  on  it,"  says  they.  "Shall  I?"  says  he. 
"Yes,  you  will,"  says  they.  "Well,"  says  he,  "I 
should  like  to  see  the  thief  as  could  get  this  here  watch 
out,  for  I  'm  blest  if  I  ever  can,  it 's  such  a  tight  fit," 
says  he ;  "and  venever  I  wants  to  know  what 's  o'clock, 
I  'm  obliged  to  stare  into  the  bakers'  shops,"  he  says. 
Well,  then  he  laughs  as  hearty  as  if  he  was  a  goin'  to 
pieces,  and  out  he  walks  agin  with  his  powdered  head 
and  pigtail,  and  rolls  down  the  Strand  vith  the  chain 
hangin'  out  furder  than  ever,  and  the  great  round 
watch  almost  bustin'  through  his  grey  kersey  smalls. 
There  warn't  a  pickpocket  in  all  London  as  didn't  take 
a  pull  at  that  chain,  but  the  chain  'ud  never  break, 
and  the  watch  'ud  never  come  out,  so  they  soon  got 
tired  o'  dragging  such  a  heavy  old  gen'l'm'n  along  the 
pavement,  and  he  'd  go  home  and  laugh  till  the  pig- 
tail wibrated  like  the  penderlum  of  a  Dutch  clock. 
At  last,  one  day  the  old  gen'l'm'n  was  a  rolling  along, 
and  he  sees  a  pickpocket  as  he  know'd  by  sight, 
a-comin'  up,  arm  in  arm  vith  a  little  boy  vith  a  wery 
large  head.  "Here  's  a  game,"  says  the  old  gen'l'm'n 
to  himself,  "they  're  a-goin'  to  have  another  try,  but 
it  won't  do!"  So  he  begins  a-chucklin'  wery  hearty, 
when,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  little  boy  leaves  hold  of  the 
pickpocket's  arm,  and  rushes  headforemost  straight 
into  the  old  gen'l'm'n's  stomach,  and  for  a  moment 
doubles  him  right  up  vith  the  pain.  "Murder!"  says 
the  old  gen'l'm'n.  "All  right,  sir,"  says  the  pick- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          515 

pocket,  a  whisperin'  in  his  ear.  And  when  he  come 
straight  agin,  the  watch  and  chain  was  gone,  and 
what 's  worse  than  that,  the  old  gen'l'm'n's  digestion 
was  all  wrong  ever  artervards,  to  the  wery  last  day  of 
his  life;  so  just  you  look  about  you,  young  feller,  and 
take  care  you  don't  get  too  fat.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  concluded  this  moral  tale,  with  which 
the  fat  boy  appeared  much  affected,  they  all  three 
repaired  to  the  large  kitchen,  in  which  the  family  were 
by  this  time  assembled,  according  to  annual  custom  on 
Christmas  Eve,  observed  by  old  Wardle's  forefathers 
from  time  immemorial. 

From  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  of  this  kitchen,  old 
Wardle  had  just  suspended,  with  his  own  hands,  a 
huge  branch  of  mistletoe,  and  this  same  branch  of 
mistletoe  instantaneously  gave  rise  to  a  scene  of  gen- 
eral and  most  delightful  struggling  and  confusion: 
in  the  midst  of  which,  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  gallantry 
that  would  have  done  honour  to  a  descendant  of  Lady 
Tollimglower  herself,  took  the  old  lady  by  the  hand, 
led  her  beneath  the  mystic  branch,  and  saluted  her  in 
all  courtesy  and  decorum.  The  old  lady  submitted  to 
this  piece  of  practical  politeness  with  all  the  dignity 
which  befitted  so  important  and  serious  a  solemnity, 
but  the  younger  ladies,  not  being  so  thoroughly  im- 
bued with  a  superstitious  veneration  for  the  custom: 
or  imagining  that  the  value  of  a  salute  is  very  much 
enhanced  if  it  cost  a  little  trouble  to  obtain  it: 
screamed  and  struggled,  and  ran  into  corners,  and 
threatened  and  remonstrated,  and  did  everything  but 
leave  the  room,  until  some  of  the  less  adventurous 
gentlemen  were  on  the  point  of  desisting,  when  they 
all  at  once  found  it  useless  to  resist  any  longer,  and 
submitted  to  be  kissed  with  a  good  grace.  Mr. 
Winkle  kissed  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass*  kissed  Emily,  and  Mr.  Weller- 


516  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

not  being  particular  about  the  form  of  being  under 
the  mistletoe,  kissed  Emma  and  the  other  female  serv- 
ants, just  as  he  caught  them.  As  to  the  poor  rela- 
tions, they  kissed  everybody,  not  even  excepting  the 
plainer  portion  of  the  young-lady  visitors,  who,  in 
their  excessive  confusion,  ran  right  under  the  mistle- 
toe, as  soon  as  it  was  hung  up,  without  knowing  it! 
Wardle  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  surveying  the 
whole  scene,  with  the  utmost  satisfaction ;  and  the  fat 
boy  took  the  opportunity  of  appropriating  to  his  own 
use,  and  summarily  devouring,  a  particularly  fine 
mince-pie,  that  had  been  carefully  put  by,  for  some- 
body else. 

Now,  the  screaming  had  subsided,  and  faces  were 
in  a  glow,  and  curls  in  a  tangle,  and  Mr.  Pickwick, 
after  kissing  the  old  lady  as  before  mentioned,  was 
standing  under  the  mistletoe,  looking  with  a  very 
pleased  countenance  on  all  that  was  passing  around 
him,  when  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes,  after 
a  little  whispering  with  the  other  young  ladies,  made 
a  sudden  dart  forward,  and,  putting  her  arm  round 
Mr.  Pickwick's  neck,  saluted  him  affectionately  on 
the  left  cheek;  and  before  Mr.  Pickwick  distinctly 
knew  what  was  the  matter,  he  was  surrounded  by  the 
whole  body,  and  kissed  by  every  one  of  them. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the 
centre  of  the  group,  now  pulled  this  way,  and  then 
that,  and  first  kissed  on  the  chin,  and  then  on  the  nose, 
and  then  on  the  spectacles:  and  to  hear  the  peals  of 
laughter  which  were  raised  on  every  side ;  but  it  was  a 
still  more  pleasant  thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick,  blinded 
shortly  afterwards  with  a  silk  handkerchief,  falling 
up  against  the  wall,  and  scrambling  into  corners,  and 
going  through  all  the  mysteries  of  blind-man's  buff, 
with  the  utmost  relish  for  the  game,  until  at  last  he 
caught  one  of  the  poor  relations,  and  then  had  to 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          517 

evade  the  blind-man  himself,  which  he  did  with  a 
nimbleness  and  agility  that  elicited  the  admiration  and 
applause  of  all  beholders.  The  poor  relations  caught 
the  people  who  they  thought  would  like  it,  and,  when 
the  game  flagged,  got  caught  themselves.  When  they 
were  all  tired  of  blind-man's  buff,  there  was  a  great 
game  at  snap-dragon,  and  when  fingers  enough  were 
burned  with  that,  and  all  the  raisins  were  gone,  they 
sat  down  by  the  huge  fire  of  blazing  logs  to  a  sub- 
stantial supper,  and  a  mighty  bowl  of  wassail,  some- 
thing smaller  than  an  ordinary  wash-house  copper,  in 
which  the  hot  apples  were  hissing  and  bubbling  with 
a  rich  look,  and  a  jolly  sound,  that  were  perfectly 
irresistible. 

'This,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  him,  'this 
is,  indeed,  comfort.' 

'Our  invariable  custom,'  replied  Mr.  Wardle. 
'Everybody  sits  down  with  us  on  Christmas  Eve,  as 
you  see  them  now — servants  and  all ;  and  here  we  wait, 
until  the  clock  strikes  twelve,  to  usher  Christmas  in, 
and  beguile  the  time  with  forfeits  and  old  stories. 
Trundle,  my  boy,  rake  up  the  fire.' 

Up  flew  the  bright  sparks  in  myriads  as  the  logs 
were  stirred.  The  deep  red  blaze  sent  forth  a  rich 
glow,  that  penetrated  into  the  furthest  corner  of  the 
room,  and  cast  its  cheerful  tint  on  every  face. 

'Come,'  said  Wardle,  'a  song — a  Christmas  song! 
I  '11  give  you  one,  in  default  of  a  better.' 

'Bravo!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Till  up,'  cried  Wardle.  'It  will  be  two  hours, 
good,  before  you  see  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  through 
the  deep  rich  colour  of  the  wassail;  fill  up  all  round, 
and  now  for  the  song.' 

Thus  saying,  the  merry  old  gentleman,  in  a  good, 
round,  sturdy  voice,  commenced  without  more  ado— 


518  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL 

I  CARE  not  for  spring;  on  his  fickle  wing 

Let  the  blossoms  and  buds  be  borne: 

He  woos  them  amain  with  his  treacherous  rain, 

And  he  scatters  them  ere  the  morn. 

An  inconstant  elf ,  he  knows  not  himself, 

Nor  his  own  changing  mind  an  hour, 

He  '11  smile  in  your  face,  and,  with  wry  grimace, 

He  '11  wither  your  youngest  flower. 

Let  the  Summer  sun  to  his  bright  home  run, 

He  shall  never  be  sought  by  me ; 

When  he  's  dimmed  by  a  cloud  I  can  laugh  aloud; 

And  care  not  how  sulky  he  be ! 

For  his  darling  child  is  the  madness  wild 

That  sports  in  fierce  f ever  s  train; 

And  when  love  is  too  strong,  it  don't  last  long. 

As  many  have  found  to  their  pain. 

A  mild  harvest  night,  by  the  tranquil  light 

Of  the  modest  and  gentle  moon, 

Has  a  far  sweeter  sheen,  for  me,  I  ween, 

Than  the  broad  and  unblushing  noon. 

But  every  leaf  awakens  my  grief, 

As  it  lieth  beneath  the  tree; 

So  let  Autumn  air  be  never  so  fair, 

It  by  no  means  agrees  with  me. 

But  my  song  I  troll  out,  for  CHRISTMAS  stout 

The  hearty,  the  true,  and  the  bold ; 

A  bumper  I  drain,  and  with  might  and  main 

Give  three  cheers  for  this  Christmas  old! 

We  '11  usher  him  in  with  a  merry  din 

That  shall  gladden  his  joyous  heart, 

And  we  '11  keep  him  up,  while  there  's  bite  or  sup, 

And  in  fellowship  good,  we  11  part. 

In  his  fine  honest  pride,  he  scorns  to  hide, 

One  jot  of  his  hard-weather  scars; 

They  're  no  disgrace,  for  there  's  much  the  same  trace 

On  the  cheeks  of  our  bravest  tars. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  519 

Then  again  I  sing  'till  the  roof  doth  ring, 
And  it  echoes  from  wall  to  wall — 
To  the  stout  old  wight,  fair  welcome  to-night, 
As  the  King  of  the  Seasons  all! 

This  song  was  tumultuously  applauded — for 
friends  and  dependents  make  a  capital  audience — and 
the  poor  relations,  especially,  were  in  perfect  ecstasies 
of  rapture.  Again  was  the  fire  replenished,  and  again 
went  the  wassail  round. 

'How  it  snows !'  said  one  of  the  men,  in  a  low  tone. 

'Snows,  does  it?'  said  Wardle. 

'Rough,  cold  night,  sir,'  replied  the  man;  'and 
there  's  a  wind  got  up,  that  drifts  it  across  the  fields, 
in  a  thick  white  cloud.' 

'What  does  Jem  say?'  inquired  the  old  lady. 
'There  ain't  anything  the  matter,  is  there  ?' 

'No,  no,  mother,'  replied  Wardle ;  'he  says  there  's 
a  snow-drift,  and  a  wind  that 's  piercing  cold.  I 
should  know  that,  by  the  way  it  rumbles  in  the 
chimney.' 

'Ah!'  said  the  old  lady,  'there  was  just  such  a  wind, 
and  just  such  a  fall  of  snow,  a  good  many  years  back, 
I  recollect — just  five  years  before  your  poor  father 
died.  It  was  Christmas  Eve,  too;  and  I  remember 
that  on  that  very  night  he  told  us  the  story  about  the 
goblins  that  carried  away  old  Gabriel  Grub.' 

'The  story  about  what?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Oh,  nothing,  nothing,'  replied  Wardle.  'About  an 
old  sexton,  that  the  good  people  down  here  suppose  to 
have  been  carried  away  by  goblins.' 

'Suppose!'  ejaculated  the  old  lady.  'Is  there  any- 
body hardy  enough  to  disbelieve  it?  Suppose! 
Haven't  you  heard  ever  since  you  were  a  child,  that  he 
was  carried  away  by  the  goblins,  and  don't  you  know 
he  was?' 

'Very   well,   mother,   he   was,   if   you   like,'    said 


520  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Wardle,  laughing.  'He  was  carried  away  by  goblins, 
Pickwick;  and  there  's  an  end  of  the  matter.' 

'No,  no,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'not  an  end  of  it,  I 
assure  you;  for  I  must  hear  how,  and  why,  and  all 
about  it.' 

Wardle  smiled,  as  every  head  was  bent  forward  to 
hear ;  and  filling  out  the  wassail  with  no  stinted  hand, 
nodded  a  health  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  began  as  fol- 
lows : — 

But  bless  our  editorial  heart,  what  a  long  chapter 
we  have  been  betrayed  into !  We  had  quite  forgotten 
all  such  petty  restrictions  as  chapters,  we  solemnly 
declare.  So  here  goes,  to  give  the  goblin  a  fair  start 
in  a  new  one!  A  clear  stage  and  no  favour  for  the 
goblins,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  if  you  please. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  GOBLINS  WHO  STOLE  A  SEXTON 

'!N  an  old  abbey  town,  down  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try, a  long,  long  while  ago — so  long,  that  the  story 
must  be  a  true  one,  because  our  great  grandfathers 
implicitly  believed  it — there  officiated  as  sexton  and 
grave-digger  in  the  churchyard,  one  Gabriel  Grub. 
It  by  no  means  follows  that  because  a  man  is  a  sexton, 
and  constantly  surrounded  by  the  emblems  of  mortal- 
ity, therefore  he  should  be  a  morose  and  melancholy 
man ;  your  undertakers  are  the  merriest  fellows  in  the 
world;  and  I  once  had  the  honour  of  being  on  inti- 
mate terms  with  a  mute,  who  in  private  life,  and  off 
duty,  was  as  comical  and  jocose  a  little  fellow  as  ever 
chirped  out  a  devil-may-care  song,  without  a  hitch  in 
his  memory,  or  drained  off  the  contents  of  a  good  stiff 
glass  without  stopping  for  breath.  But,  notwith- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          521 

standing  these  precedents  to  the  contrary,  Gabriel 
Grub  was  an  ill-conditioned,  cross-grained,  surly  fel- 
low— a  morose  and  lonely  man,  who  consorted  with 
nobody  but  himself,  and  an  old  wicker  bottle  which 
fitted  into  his  large  deep  waistcoat  pocket — and  who 
eyed  each  merry  face,  as  it  passed  him  by,  with  such 
a  deep  scowl  of  malice  and  ill-humour,  as  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  meet,  without  feeling  something  the  worse  for. 

'A  little  before  twilight,  one  Christmas  Eve,  Ga- 
briel shouldered  his  spade,  lighted  his  lantern,  and 
betook  himself  towards  the  old  churchyard;  for  he 
had  got  a  grave  to  finish  by  next  morning,  and,  feel- 
ing very  low,  he  thought  it  might  raise  his  spirits,  per- 
haps, if  he  went  on  with  his  work  at  once.  As  he 
went  his  way,  up  the  ancient  street,  he  saw  the  cheer- 
ful light  of  the  blazing  fires  gleam  through  the  old 
casements,  and  heard  the  loud  laugh  and  the  cheerful 
shouts  of  those  who  were  assembled  around  them;  he 
marked  the  bustling  preparations  for  next  day's  cheer, 
and  smelt  .the  numerous  savoury  odours  consequent 
thereupon,  as  they  steamed  up  from  the  kitchen  win- 
dows in  clouds.  All  this  was  gall  and  wormwood  to 
the  heart  of  Gabriel  Grub ;  and  when  groups  of  chil- 
dren, bounded  out  of  the  houses,  tripped  across  the 
road,  and  were  met,  before  they  could  knock  at  the 
opposite  door,  by  half  a  dozen  curly-headed  little  ras- 
cals who  crowded  round  them  as  they  flocked  upstairs 
to  spend  the  evening  in  their  Christmas  games,  Ga- 
briel smiled  grimly,  and  clutched  the  handle  of  his 
spade  with  a  firmer  grasp,  as  he  thought  of  measles, 
scarlet-fever,  thrush,  hooping-cough,  and  a  good 
many  other  sources  of  consolation  besides. 

'In  this  happy  frame  of  mind,  Gabriel  strode  along: 
returning  a  short,  sullen  growl  to  the  good-humoured 
greetings  of  such  of  his  neighbours  as  now  and  then 
passed  him :  until  he  turned  into  the  dark  lane  which 


522  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

led  to  the  churchyard.  Now,  Gabriel  had  been  look- 
ing forward  to  reaching  the  dark  lane,  because  it  was, 
generally  speaking,  a  nice,  gloomy,  mournful  place, 
into  which  the  towns-people  did  not  much  care  to  go, 
except  in  the  broad  daylight,  and  when  the  sun  was 
shining ;  consequently,  he  was  not  a  little  indignant  to 
hear  a  young  urchin  roaring  out  some  jolly  song 
about  a  merry  Christmas,  in  this  very  sanctuary, 
which  had  been  called  Coffin  Lane  ever  since  the  days 
of  the  old  abbey,  and  the  time  of  the  shaven-headed 
monks.  As  Gabriel  walked  on,  and  the  voice  drew 
nearer,  he  found  it  proceeded  from  a  small  boy,  who 
was  hurrying  along,  to  join  one  of  the  little  parties  in 
the  old  street,  and  who,  partly  to  keep  himself  com- 
pany, and  partly  to  prepare  himself  for  the  occasion, 
was  shouting  out  the  song  at  the  highest  pitch  of  his 
lungs.  So  Gabriel  waited  until  the  boy  came  up, 
and  then  dodged  him  into  a  corner,  and  rapped  him 
over  the  head  with  his  lantern  five  or  six  times,  to 
teach  him  to  modulate  his  voice.  And  as  the  boy 
hurried  away  with  his  hand  to  his  head,  singing  quite 
a  different  sort  of  tune,  Gabriel  Grub  chuckled  very 
heartily  to  himself,  and  entered  the  churchyard :  lock- 
ing the  gate  behind  him. 

'He  took  off  his  coat,  put  down  his  lantern,  and 
getting  into  the  unfinished  grave,  worked  at  it  for  an 
hour  or  so,  with  right  good  will.  But  the  earth  was 
hardened  with  the  frost,  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to 
break  it  up,  and  shovel  it  out ;  and  although  there  was 
a  moon,  it  was  a  very  young  one,  and  shed  little  light 
upon  the  grave,  which  was  in  the  shadow  of  the 
church.  At  any  other  time,  these  obstacles  would 
have  made  Gabriel  Grub  very  moody  and  miserable, 
but  he  was  so  well  pleased  with  having  stopped  the 
small  boy's  singing,  that  he  took  little  heed  of  the 
scanty  progress  he  had  made,  and  looked  down  into 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  523 

the  grave,  when  he  had  finished  work  for  the  night, 
with  grim  satisfaction:  murmuring  as  he  gathered  up 
his  things — 

Brave  lodgings  for  one,  brave  lodgings  for  one, 
A  few  feet  of  cold  earth,  when  life  is  done; 
A  stone  at  the  head,  a  stone  at  the  feet, 
A  rich,  j  uicy  meal  for  the  worms  to  eat ; 
Rank  grass  over  head,  and  damp  clay  around, 
Brave  lodgings  for  one,  these,  in  holy  ground! 

*  "Ho!  ho!"  laughed  Gabriel  Grub,  as  he  sat  him- 
self down  on  a  flat  tombstone  which  was  a  favourite 
resting-place  of  his ;  and  drew  forth  his  wicker  bottle. 
**A  coffin  at  Christmas!  A  Christmas  Box.  Ho! 
ho!  ho!" 

'"Ho!  ho!  ho!"  repeated  a  voice  which  sounded 
close  behind  him. 

'Gabriel  paused,  in  some  alarm,  in  the  act  of  raising 
the  wicker  bottle  to  his  lips :  and  looked  round.  The 
bottom  of  the  oldest  grave  about  him,  was  not  more 
still  and  quiet,  than  the  churchyard  in  the  pale  moon- 
light. The  cold  hoar-frost  glistened  on  the  tomb- 
stones, and  sparkled  like  rows  of  gems,  among  the 
stone  carvings  of  the  old  church.  The  snow  lay  hard 
and  crisp  upon  the  ground;  and  spread  over  the 
thickly-strewn  mounds  of  earth,  so  white  and  smooth 
a  cover,  that  it  seemed  as  if  corpses  lay  there,  hidden 
only  by  their  winding  sheets.  Not  the  faintest  rustle 
broke  the  profound  tranquillity  of  the  solemn  scene. 
Sound  itself  appeared  to  be  frozen  up,  all  was  so  cold 
and  still. 

'  "It  was  the  echoes."  said  Gabriel  Grub,  raising  the 
bottle  to  his  lips  again. 

'  "It  was  not"  said  a  deep  voice. 

'Gabriel  started  up.  and  stood  rooted  to  the  spot 
with  astonishment  and  terror:  for  his  eyes  rested  on 
a  form  that  made  his  blood  run  cold. 


524  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Seated  on  an  upright  tombstone,  close  to  him,  was 
a  strange  unearthly  figure,  whom  Gabriel  felt  at  once, 
was  no  being  of  this  world.  His  long  fantastic  legs, 
which  might  have  reached  the  ground,  were  cocked 
up,  and  crossed  after  a  quaint,  fantastic  fashion;  his 
sinewy  arms  were  bare;  and  his  hands  rested  on  his 
knees.  On  his  short  round  body,  he  wore  a  close  cov- 
ering, ornamented  with  small  slashes;  a  short  cloak 
dangled  at  his  back;  the  collar  was  cut  into  curious 
peaks,  which  served  the  goblin  in  lieu  of  ruff  or  neck- 
erchief; and  his  shoes  curled  up  at  his  toes  into  long 
points.  On  his  head,  he  wore  a  broad-brimmed 
sugar-loaf  hat,  garnished  with  a  single  feather,  The 
hat  was  covered  with  the  white  frost;  and  the  goblin 
looked  as  if  he  had  sat  on  the  same  tombstone  very 
comfortably,  for  two  or  three  hundred  years.  He 
was  sitting  perfectly  still;  his  tongue  was  put  out,  as 
if  in  derision;  and  he  was  grinning  at  Gabriel  Grub 
with  such  a  grin  as  only  a  goblin  could  call  up. 

"It  was  not  the  echoes,"  said  the  goblin. 
'Gabriel  Grub  was  paralysed,  and  could  make  no 
reply. 

"What  do  you  do  here  on  Christmas  Eve?"  said 
the  goblin  sternly. 

"I  came  to  dig  a  grave,  sir,"  stammered  Gabriel 
Grub. 

"What  man  wanders  among  graves  and  church- 
yards on  such  a  night  as  this?"  cried  the  goblin. 

"Gabriel  Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!"  screamed  a  wild 
chorus  of  voices  that  seemed  to  fill  the  churchyard. 
Gabriel  looked  fearfully  round — nothing  was  to  be 
seen. 

"What  have  you  got  in  that  bottle?"  said  the  gob- 
lin. 

"Hollands,  sir,"  replied  the  sexton,  trembling 
more  than  ever;  for  he  had  bought  it  of  the  smug- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  525 

glers,   and  he  thought  that  perhaps  his  questioner 
might  be  in  the  excise  department  of  the  goblins. 

"Who  drinks  Hollands  alone,  and  in  a  church- 
yard, on  such  a  night  as  this?"  said  the  goblin. 

"Gabriel  Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!"  exclaimed  the 
wild  voices  again. 

'The  goblin  leered  maliciously  at  the  terrified  sex- 
ton, and  then  raising  his  voice,  exclaimed — 

"And  who,  then,  is  our  fair  and  lawful  prize?" 

'To  this  inquiry  the  invisible  chorus  replied,  in  a 
strain  that  sounded  like  the  voices  of  many  choristers 
singing  to  the  mighty  swell  of  the  old  church  organ 
— a  strain  that  seemed  borne  to  the  sexton's  ears  upon 
a  wild  wind,  and  to  die  away  as  it  passed  onward ;  but 
the  burden  of  the  reply  was  still  the  same,  "Gabriel 
Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!" 

'The  goblin  grinned  a  broader  grin  than  before, 
as  he  said,  "Well,  Gabriel,  what  do  you  say  to 
this?" 

'The  sexton  gasped  for  breath. 

1  "What  do  you  think  of  this,  Gabriel?"  said  the 
goblin,  kicking  up  his  feet  in  the  air  on  either  side  of 
the  tombstone,  and  looking  at  the  turned-up  points 
with  as  much  complacency  as  if  he  had  been  contem- 
plating the  most  fashionable  pair  of  Wellingtons  in 
all  Bond  Street. 

"It 's— it 's — very  curious,  sir,"  replied  the  sexton, 
half  dead  with  fright ;  "very  curious,  and  very  pretty, 
but  I  think  I  '11  go  back  and  finish  my  work,  sir,  if 
you  please." 

"Work!"  said  the  goblin,  "what  work?" 
"The  grave,  sir;  making  the  grave,"  stammered 
the  sexton. 

'  "Oh,  the  grave,  eh?"  said  the  goblin;  "who  makes 
graves  at  a  time  when  all  other  men  are  merry,  and 
takes  a  pleasure  in  it?" 


526  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Again  the  mysterious  voices  replied,  "Gabriel 
Grub!  Gabriel  Grub!" 

'  "I  'm  afraid  my  friends  want  you,  Gabriel,"  said 
the  goblin,  thrusting  his  tongue  further  into  his 
cheek  than  ever — and  a  most  astonishing  tongue  it 
was — "I  'm  afraid  my  friends  want  you,  Gabriel," 
said  the  goblin. 

'  "Under  favour,  sir,"  replied  the  horror-stricken 
sexton,  "I  don't  think  they  can,  sir;  they  don't  know 
me,  sir;  I  don't  think  the  gentlemen  have  ever  seen 
me,  sir." 

"Oh  yes  they  have,"  replied  the  goblin;  "we  know 
the  man  with  the  sulky  face  and  grim  scowl,  that 
came  down  the  street  to-night,  throwing  his  evil  looks 
at  the  children,  and  grasping  his  burying  spade  the 
tighter.  We  know  the  man  who  struck  the  boy  in 
the  envious  malice  of  his  heart,  because  the  boy  could 
be  merry,  and  he  could  not.  We  know  him,  we  know 
him." 

'Here,  the  goblin  gave  a  loud  shrill  laugh,  which 
the  echoes  returned  twenty-fold:  and  throwing  his 
legs  up  in  the  air,  stood  upon  his  head,  or  rather  upon 
the  very  point  of  his  sugar-loaf  hat,  on  the  narrow 
edge  of  the  tombstone:  whence  he  threw  a  somerset 
with  extraordinary  agility,  right  to  the  sexton's  feet, 
at  which  he  planted  himself  in  the  attitude  in  which 
tailors  generally  sit  upon  the  shop-board. 

"I — I — am  afraid  I  must  leave  you,  sir,"  said 
the  sexton,  making  an  effort  to  move. 

'"Leave  us!"  said  the  goblin,  "Gabriel  Grub  going 
to  leave  us.  Ho !  ho !  ho !" 

'As  the  goblin  laughed,  the  sexton  observed,  for 
one  instant,  a  brilliant  illumination  within  the  win- 
dows of  the  church,  as  if  the  whole  building  were 
lighted  up;  it  disappeared,  the  organ  pealed  forth  a 
lively  air,  and  whole  troops  of  goblins,  the  very  coun- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  527 

terpart  of  the  first  one,  poured  into  the  churchyard, 
and  began  playing  at  leap-frog  with  the  tombstones: 
never  stopping  for  an  instant  to  take  breath,  but 
"overing"  the  highest  among  them,  one  after  an- 
other, with  the  utmost  marvellous  dexterity.  The 
first  goblin  was  a  most  astonishing  leaper,  and  none 
of  the  others  could  come  near  him;  even  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  terror  the  sexton  could  not  help  ob- 
serving, that  while  his  friends  were  content  to  leap 
over  the  common-sized  gravestones,  the  first  one  took 
the  family  vaults,  iron  railings  and  all,  with  as  much 
ease  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  street  posts. 

'At  last  the  game  reached  to  a  most  exciting  pitch ; 
the  organ  played  quicker  and  quicker;  and  the  gob- 
lins leaped  faster  and  faster:  coiling  themselves  up, 
rolling  head  over  heels  upon  the  ground,  and  bound- 
ing over  the  tombstones  like  footballs.  The  sexton's 
brain  whirled  round  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion 
he  beheld,  and  his  legs  reeled  beneath  him,  as  the 
spirits  flew  before  his  eyes:  when  the  goblin  king, 
suddenly  darting  towards  him,  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
collar,  and  sank  \vith  him  through  the  earth. 

'When  Gabriel  Grub  had  had  time  to  fetch  his 
breath,  which  the  rapidity  of  his  descent  had  for  the 
moment  taken  away,  he  found  himself  in  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  large  cavern,  surrounded  on  all  sides 
by  crowds  of  goblins,  ugly  and  grim;  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  on  an  elevated  seat,  was  stationed  his 
friend  of  the  churchyard;  and  close  beside  him  stood 
Gabriel  Grub  himself,  without  power  of  motion. 

'  "Cold  to-night,"  said  the  king  of  the  goblins, 
"very  cold.  A  glass  of  something  warm,  here!" 

'At  this  command,  half  a  dozen  officious  goblins, 
with  a  perpetual  smile  upon  their  faces,  whom  Ga- 
briel Grub  imagined  to  be  courtiers,  on  that  account, 
hastily  disappeared,  and  presently  returned  with  a 


528  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

goblet  of  liquid  fire,  which  they  presented  to  the 
king. 

'  "Ah!"  cried  the  goblin,  whose  cheeks  and  throat 
were  transparent,  as  he  tossed  down  the  flame,  "this 
warms  one,  indeed!  Bring  a  bumper  of  the  same, 
for  Mr.  Grub." 

'It  was  in  vain  for  the  unfortunate  sexton  to  pro- 
test that  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  taking  anything 
warm  at  night;  one  of  the  goblins  held  him  while 
another  poured  the  blazing  liquid  down  his  throat; 
the  whole  assembly  screeched  with  laughter  as  he 
coughed  and  choked,  and  wiped  away  the  tears  which 
gushed  plentifully  from  his  eyes,  after  swallowing  the 
burning  draught. 

"And  now,"  said  the  king,  fantastically  poking 
the  taper  corner  of  his  sugar-loaf  hat  into  the  sex- 
ton's eye,  and  thereby  occasioning  him  the  most  ex- 
quisite pain:  "and  now,  show  the  man  of  misery  and 
gloom,  a  few  of  the  pictures  from  our  own  great 
storehouse!" 

'As  the  goblin  said  this,  a  thick  cloud  which  ob- 
scured the  remoter  end  of  the  cavern,  rolled  gradually 
away,  and  disclosed,  apparently  at  a  great  distance,  a 
small  and  scantily  furnished,  but  neat  and  clean 
apartment.  A  crowd  of  little  children  were  gathered 
round  a  bright  fire,  clinging  to  their  mother's  gown, 
and  gambolling  around  her  chair.  The  mother  occa- 
sionally rose,  and  drew  aside  the  window-curtain,  as 
if  to  look  for  some  expected  object;  a  frugal  meal 
was  ready  spread  upon  the  table;  and  an  elbow  chair 
was  placed  near  the  fire.  A  knock  was  heard  at  the 
door:  the  mother  opened  it,  and  the  children  crowded 
round  her,  and  clapped  their  hands  for  joy,  as  their 
father  entered.  He  was  wet  and  weary,  and  shook 
the  snow  from  his  garments,  as  the  children  crowded 


THE   GOBLIN    AND   THE    SEXTON. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  529 

round  him,  and  seizing  his  cloak,  hat,  stick,  and 
gloves,  with  busy  zeal,  ran  with  them  from  the  room. 
Then,  as  he  sat  down  to  his  meal  before  the  fire,  the 
children  climbed  about  his  knee,  and  the  mother  sat 
by  his  side,  and  all  seemed  happiness  and  comfort. 

'But  a  change  came  upon  the  view,  almost  imper- 
ceptibly.    The  scene  was  altered  to  a  small  bed-room, 
where  the  fairest  and  youngest  child  lay  dying;  the 
roses  had  fled  from  his  cheek,  and  the  light  from  his 
eye;  and  even  as  the  sexton  looked  upon  him  with  an 
interest  he  had  never  felt  or  known  before,  he  died. 
His  young  brothers  and  sisters  crowded  round  his 
little  bed,  and  seized  his  tiny  hand,  so  cold  and  heavy ; 
but  they  shrunk  back  from  its  touch,  and  looked  with 
awe  on  his  infant  face;  for  calm  and  tranquil  as  it 
was,  and  sleeping  in  rest  and  peace  as  the  beautiful 
child  seemed  to  be,  they  saw  that  he  was  dead,  and 
they  knew  that  he  was  an  Angel  looking  down  upon, 
and  blessing  them,  from  a  bright  and  happy  Heaven. 
'Again  the  light  cloud  passed  across  the  picture, 
and   again   the   subject   changed.     The    father   and 
mother  were  old  and  helpless  now,  and  the  number  of 
those  about  them  was  diminished  more  than  half;  but 
content    and   cheerfulness    sat   on   every    face,    and 
beamed  in  every  eye,  as  they  crowded  round  the  fire- 
side, and  told  and  listened  to  old  stories  of  earlier  and 
bygone    days.     Slowly   and   peacefully,    the    father 
sank  into  the  grave,  and,  soon  after,  the  sharer  of  all 
his  cares  and  troubles  followed  him  to  a  place  of  rest. 
The  few,  who  yet  survived  them,  knelt  by  their  tomb, 
and  watered  the  green  turf  which  covered  it,  with 
their  tears;  then  rose,  and  turned  away:  sadly  and 
mournfully,  but  not  with  bitter  cries,  or  despairing 
lamentations,  for  they  knew  that  they  should  one  day 
meet  again ;  and  once  more  they  mixed  with  the  busy 


530  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

world,  and  their  content  and  cheerfulness  were  re- 
stored. The  cloud  settled  upon  the  picture,  and  con- 
cealed it  from  the  sexton's  view. 

'  "What  do  you  think  of  that?"  said  the  goblin, 
turning  his  large  face  towards  Gabriel  Grub. 

'Gabriel  murmured  out  something  about  its  being 
very  pretty,  and  looked  somewhat  ashamed,  as  the 
goblin  bent  his  fiery  eyes  upon  him. 

"You  a  miserable  man  1"  said  the  goblin,  in  a  tone 
of  excessive  contempt.  "You!"  He  appeared  dis- 
posed to  add  more,  but  indignation  choked  his  utter- 
ance, so  he  lifted  up  one  of  his  very  pliable  legs,  and 
flourishing  it  above  his  head  a  little,  to  insure  his  aim, 
administered  a  good  sound  kick  to  Gabriel  Grub ;  im- 
mediately after  which,  all  the  goblins  in  waiting, 
crowded  round  the  wretched  sexton,  and  kicked  him 
without  mercy:  according  to  the  established  and  in- 
variable custom  of  courtiers  upon  earth,  who  kick 
whom  royalty  kicks,  and  hug  whom  royalty  hugs. 

"Show  him  some  more!"  said  the  king  of  the  gob- 
lins. 

'At  these  words,  the  cloud  was  dispelled,  and  a  rich 
and  beautiful  landscape  was  disclosed  to  view — there 
is  just  such  another,  to  this  day,  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  old  abbey  town.  The  sun  shone  from  out  the 
clear  blue  sky,  the  water  sparkled  beneath  his  rays, 
and  the  trees  looked  greener,  and  the  flowers  more 
gay,  beneath  his  cheering  influence.  The  water  rip- 
pled on,  with  a  pleasant  sound;  the  trees  rustled  in 
the  light  wind  that  murmured  among  their  leaves; 
the  birds  sang  upon  the  boughs ;  and  the  lark  carolled 
on  high,  her  welcome  to  the  morning.  Yes,  it  was 
morning:  the  bright,  balmy  morning  of  summer;  the 
minutest  leaf,  the  smallest  blade  of  grass,  was  in- 
stinct with  life.  The  ant  crept  forth  to  her  daily 
toil,  the  butterfly  fluttered  and  basked  in  the  warm 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  531 

rays  of  the  sun ;  myriads  of  insects  spread  their  trans- 
parent wings,  and  revelled  in  their  brief  but  happy 
existence.  Man  walked  forth,  elated  with  the  scene"; 
and  all  was  brightness  and  splendour. 

"You  a  miserable  man!"  said  the  king  of  the  gob- 
lins, in  a  more  contemptuous  tone  than  before.  And 
again  the  king  of  the  goblins  gave  his  leg  a  flourish ; 
again  it  descended  on  the  shoulders  of  the  sexton ;  and 
again  the  attendant  goblins  imitated  the  example  of 
their  chief. 

'Many  a  time  the  cloud  went  and  came,  and  many 
a  lesson  it  taught  to  Gabriel  Grub,  who,  although  his 
shoulders  smarted  with  pain  from  the  frequent  appli- 
cations of  the  goblins'  feet,  looked  on  with  an  interest 
that  nothing  could  diminish.  He  saw  that  men  who 
worked  hard,  and  earned  their  scanty  bread  with  lives 
of  labour,  were  cheerful  and  happy;  and  that  to  the 
most  ignorant,  the  sweet  face  of  nature  was  a  never- 
failing  source  of  cheerfulness  and  joy.  He  saw 
those  who  had  been  delicately  nurtured,  and  tenderly 
brought  up,  cheerful  under  privations,  and  superior  to 
suffering,  that  would  have  crushed  many  of  a  rougher 
grain,  because  they  bore  within  their  own  bosoms  the 
materials  of  happiness,  contentment,  and  peace.  He 
saw  that  women,  the  tenderest  and  most  fragile  of  all 
God's  creatures,  were  the  oftenest  superior  to  sorrow, 
adversity,  and  distress ;  and  he  saw  that  it  was  because 
they  bore,  in  their  own  hearts,  an  inexhaustible  well- 
spring  of  affection  and  devotion.  Above  all,  he  saw 
that  men  like  himself,  who  snarled  at  the  mirth  and 
cheerfulness  of  others,  were  the  foulest  weeds  on 
the  fair  surface  of  the  earth ;  and  setting  all  the  good 
of  the  world  against  the  evil,  he  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  was  a  very  decent  and  respectable  sort  of 
world  after  all.  No  sooner  had  he  formed  it,  than 
the  cloud  which  closed  over  the  last  picture,  seemed 


532  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  settle  on  his  senses,  and  lull  him  to  repose.  One  by 
one,  the  goblins  faded  from  his  sight;  and  as  the  last 
one  disappeared,  he  sunk  to  sleep. 

'The  day  had  broken  when  Gabriel  Grub  awoke, 
and  found  himself  lying  at  full  length  on  the  flat 
gravestone  in  the  churchyard,  with  the  wicker  bottle 
lying  empty  by  his  side,  and  his  coat,  spade,  and  lan- 
tern, all  well  whitened  by  the  last  night's  frost,  scat- 
tered on  the  ground.  The  stone  on  which  he  had 
first  seen  the  goblin  seated,  stood  bolt  upright  before 
him,  and  the  grave  at  which  he  had  worked,  the  night 
before,  was  not  far  off.  At  first,  he  began  to  doubt 
the  reality  of  his  adventures,  but  the  acute  pain  in  his 
shoulders  when  he  attempted  to  rise,  assured  him  that 
the  kicking  of  the  goblins  was  certainly  not  ideal. 
He  was  staggered  again,  by  observing  no  traces  of 
footsteps  in  the  snow  on  which  the  goblins  had  played 
at  leap-frog  with  the  gravestones,  but  he  speedily 
accounted  for  this  circumstance  when  he  remembered 
that,  being  spirits,  they  would  leave  no  visible  impres- 
sion behind  them.  So,  Gabriel  Grub  got  on  his  feet 
as  well  as  he  could,  for  the  pain  in  his  back ;  and  brush- 
ing the  frost  off  his  coat,  put  it  on,  and  turned  his 
face  towards  the  town. 

'But  he  was  an  altered  man,  and  he  could  not  bear 
the  thought  of  returning  to  a  place  where  his  re- 
pentance would  be  scoffed  at,  and  his  reformation 
disbelieved.  He  hesitated  for  a  few  moments;  and 
then  turned  away  to  wande?  where  he  might,  and 
seek  his  bread  elsewhere. 

'The  lantern,  the  spade,  and  the  wicker  bottle,  were 
found,  that  day,  in  the  churchyard.  There  were  a 
great  many  speculations  about  the  sexton's  fate,  at 
first,  but  it  was  speedily  determined  that  he  had  been 
carried  away. by  the  goblins;  and  there  were  not  want- 
ing some  very  credible  witnesses  who  had  distinctly 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  533 

seen  him  whisked  through  the  air  on  the  back  of  a 
chestnut  horse  blind  of  one  eye,  with  the  hind-quarters 
of  a  lion,  and  the  tail  of  a  bear.  At  length  all  this 
was  devoutly  believed;  and  the  new  sexton  used  to 
exhibit  to  the  curious,  for  a  trifling  emolument,  a 
good-sized  piece  of  the  church  weathercock  which  had 
been  accidentally  kicked  off  by  the  aforesaid  horse  in 
his  aerial  flight,  and  picked  up  by  himself  in  the 
churchyard,  a  year  or  two  afterwards. 

'Unfortunately,  these  stories  were  somewhat  dis- 
turbed by  the  unlooked-for  reappearance  of  Gabriel 
Grub  himself,  some  ten  years  afterwards,  a  ragged, 
contented,  rheumatic  old  man.  He  told  his  story  to 
the  clergyman,  and  also  to  the  mayor;  and  in  course 
of  time  it  began  to  be  received,  as  a  matter  of  history, 
in  which  form  it  has  continued  down  to  this  very  day. 
The  believers  in  the  weathercock  tale,  having  mis- 
placed their  confidence  once,  were  not  easily  prevailed 
upon  to  part  with  it  again,  so  they  looked  as  wise  as 
they  could,  shrugged  their  shoulders,  touched  their 
foreheads,  and  murmured  something  about  Gabriel 
Grub  having  drunk  all  the  Hollands,  and  then  fal- 
len asleep  on  the  flat  tombstone ;  and  they  affected  to 
explain  what  he  supposed  he  had  witnessed  in  the  gob- 
lin's cavern,  by  saying  that  he  had  seen  the  world, 
and  grown  wiser.  But  this  opinion,  which  was  by  no 
means  a  popular  one  at  any  time,  gradually  died  off; 
and  be  the  matter  how  it  may,  as  Gabriel  Grub  was 
afflicted  with  rheumatism  to  the  end  of  his  days,  this 
story  has  at  least  one  moral,  if  it  teach  no  better  one 
—and  that  is,  that  if  a  man  turn  sulky  and  drink  by 
himself  at  Christmas  time,  he  may  make  up  his  mind 
to  be  not  a  bit  the  better  for  it;  let  the  spirits  be  never 
so  good,  or  let  them  be  even  as  many  degrees  beyond 
proof,  as  those  which  Gabriel  Grub  saw  in  the  goblin's 
cavern.' 


MR.    PICKWICK    SLIDES. 


THE  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

THE   PICKWICK  CLUB 

BEING  A  FAITHFUL  RECORD  OF  THE 
PERAMBULATIONS,  PERILS,  TRAVELS, 
ADVENTURES,  AND  SPORTING  TRANS- 
ACTIONS OF  THE  CORRESPONDING 
MEMBERS;  EDITED  BY  BOZ. 


With  Illustrations  by 

ROBERT  SEYMOUR 

HABL6T  KNIGHT  BROWNE  ('PHIZ') 


IN    TWO   VOLUMES 
VOL.   II 


CONTENTS 


xxx.  How  the  Pickwickians  made  and  culti- 
vated the  Acquaintance  of  a  couple 
of  nice  Young  Men  belonging  to  one 
of  the  Liberal  Professions;  how  they 
disported  themselves  on  the  Ice;  and 
how  their  first  Visit  came  to  a  con- 
clusion   1 

xxxi.  Which  is  all  about  the  Law,  and  sundry 

Great  Authorities  learned  therein     .      16 

xxxii.  Describes,  far  more  fully  than  the 
Court  Newsman  ever  did,  a  Bache- 
lor's Party,  given  by  Mr.  Bob  Saw- 
yer at  his  Lodgings  in  the  Borough  .  37 

xxxiii.  Mr.  Weller  the  elder  delivers  some 
Critical  Sentiments  respecting  Liter- 
ary Composition ;  and,  assisted  by  his 
son  Samuel,  pays  a  small  Instalment 
of  Retaliation  to  the  Account  of  the 
Reverend  Gentleman  with  the  Red 

Nose 56 

xi 


xii  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


PAGZ 


xxxiv.  Wholly  devoted  to  a  full  and  faithful 
Report  of  the  Memorable  Trial  of 
Bardell  against  Pickwick  T8 

xxxv.  In  which  Mr.  Pickwick  thinks  he  had 
better  go  to  Bath;  and  goes  accord- 
ingly   .  Ill 

xxxvi.  The  chief  features  of  which,  will  be 
found  to  be  an  authentic  Version  of 
the  Legend  of  Prince  Bladud,  and  a 
most  extraordinary  Calamity  that 
befel  Mr.  Winkle 132 

xxxvn.  Honourably  accounts  for  Mr.  Weller's 
Absence,  by  describing  a  Soiree  to 
which  he  was  invited  and  went;  also 
relates  how  he  was  entrusted  by  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  a  Private  Mission  of 
Delicacy  and  Importance  .  .  .147 

xxxvin.  How  Mr.  Winkle,  when  he  stepped  out 
of  the  Frying-pan,  walked  gently  and 
comfortably  into  the  Fire  .  .  .166 

xxxrx.  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  being  entrusted 
with  a  Mission  of  Love,  proceeds  to 


CONTEXTS  xiii 

CHAP.  PAOE 

execute  it;  with  what  Success  will 

hereafter  appear 184 

XL.  Introduces  Mr.  Pickwick  to  a  new  and 
not  uninteresting  Scene  in  the  great 
Drama  of  Life 205 

XLI.  What  befell  Mr.  Pickwick  when  he  got 
into  the  Fleet ;  what  Prisoners  he  saw 
there ;  and  how  he  passed  the  Night  .  222 

XLJI.  Illustrative,  like  the  preceding  one,  of 
the  old  Proverb,  that  Adversity 
brings  a  Man  acquainted  with 
strange  Bedfellows.  Likewise  con- 
taining Mr.  Pickwick's  extraordinary 
and  startling  announcement  to  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller 239 

XLIII.  Showing  how  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  got 

into  Difficulties 259 

xuv.  Treats  of  divers  little  Matters  which 
occurred  in  the  Fleet,  and  of  Mi. 
Winkle's  mysterious  Behaviour;  and 
shows  how  the  poor  Chancery  Pris- 
oner obtained  his  Release  at  last  .  .  277 


xiv  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XLV.  Descriptive  of  an  affecting  Interview 
between  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  and  a 

Family  Party.  Mr.  Pickwick  makes 
a  Tour  of  the  diminutive  World  he 
inhabits,  and  resolves  to  mix  with  it, 
in  future,  as  little  as  possible  .  .  295 

XLVI.  Records  a  touching  Act  of  delicate 
Feeling,  not  unmixed  with  Pleasan- 
try, achieved  and  performed  by 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  .  .  .  317 

XLVII.  Is  chiefly  devoted  to  Matters  of  Busi- 
ness and  the  temporal  Advantage  of 
Dodson  and  Fogg.  Mr.  Winkle  re- 
appears under  extraordinary  circum- 
stances. Mr.  Pickwick's  Benevo- 
lence proves  stronger  than  his 
Obstinacy 330 

XLVIII.  Relates  how  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the 
assistance  of  Samuel  Weller,  essayed 
to  soften  the  heart  of  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen,  and  to  mollify  the  wrath  of 
Mr.  Robert  Sawyer 346 


CONTENTS  xv 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XLIX.  Containing  the  Story  of  the  Bagman's 

Uncle 363 

L.  How  Mr.  Pickwick  sped  upon  his 
Mission,  and  how  he  was  reinforced 
in  the  Outset  by  a  most  unexpected 
Auxiliary 386 

LI.  In  which  Mr.  Pickwick  encounters  an 
old  Acquaintance.  To  which  for- 
tunate circumstance  the  Reader  is 
mainly  indebted  for  matter  of  thrill- 
ing interest  herein  set  down,  concern- 
ing two  great  Public  Men  of  might 
and  power 406 

LII.  Involving  a  serious  Change  in  the 
Weller  Family  and  the  untimely 
Downfall  of  the  red-nosed  Mr. 
Stiggins 426 

Lin.  Comprising  the  final  Exit  of  Mr.  Jin- 
gle and  Job  Trotter;  with  a  great 
Morning  of  Business  in  Gray's  Inn 
Square.  Concluding  with  a  Double 
Knock  at  Mr.  Perker's  Door  .  .  .  44? 


xvi  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


PAGF 


LIV.  Containing  some  Particulars  relative  to 
the  Double  Knock,  and  other  Mat- 
ters :  among  which  certain  Interesting 
Disclosures  relative  to  Mr.  Snodgrass 
and  a  Young  Lady  are  by  no  means 
irrelevant  to  this  History  ....  459 
LV.  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  assisted  by  a  Select 
Committee  of  Coachmen,  arranges 
the  Affairs  of  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  .  480 

LVI.  An  important  Conference  takes  place 
between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Samuel 
Weller,  at  which  his  Parent  assists. 
An  old  Gentleman  in  a  snuff-col- 
oured Suit  arrives  unexpectedly  .  .497 

LVII.  In  which  the  Pickwick  Club  is  finally 
dissolved,  and  everything  concluded 
to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody  .  .  513 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


ILLUSTHAT10NS 


Mr.  Pickwick  Slides  .... 

The  Valentine 

Mr.    Winkle's    Situation  —  The 
Door  "  Blew-to "     .      .      .      . 

Discovery  of  Jingle  in  the  Fleet 

Mrs.    Bardell    Encounters    Mr. 
Pickwick  in  the  Prison 

The  Rival  Editors 


Phis 


FBOIfTISPIECE 
FACING    PAGE 


.    144 
.    256 

.    328 
,    416 


PICKWICK   PAPEBS.     PART    II 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  XXX 

HOW  THE  PICKWICKIANS  MADE  AND  CULTIVATED  THE 
ACQUAINTANCE  OF  A  COUPLE  OF  NICE  YOUNG  MEN 
BELONGING  TO  ONE  OF  THE  LIBERAL  PROFESSIONS; 
HOW  THEY  DISPORTED  THEMSELVES  OX  THE  ICE; 
AND  HOW  THEIR  FIRST  VISIT  CAME  TO  A  CONCLUSION 

'WELL,  Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  that  favoured 
servitor  entered  his  bed-chamber  with  his  warm  water, 
on  the  morning  of  Christmas  Day,  'still  frosty?' 

'Water  in  the  wash-hand  basin  's  a  mask  o'  ice,  sir/ 
responded  Sam. 

'Severe  weather,  Sam/  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Fine  time  for  them  as  is  well  wropped  up,  as  the 
Polar  Bear  said  to  himself,  ven  he  was  practising  his 
skating/  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  shall  be  down  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Sam/  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  untying  his  nightcap. 

'Wery  good,  sir/  replied  Sam.  'There  's  a  couple 
o'  Sawbones  downstairs.' 

'A  couple  of  what!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  sit- 
ting up  in  bed. 

'A  couple  o'  Sawbones/  said  Sam. 

'What 's  a  Sawbones?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  not 
quite  certain  whether  it  was  a  live  animal,  or  some- 
thing to  eat. 

'What!  Don't  you  know  what  a  Sawbones  is,  sir?' 
inquired  Mr.  Weller.  'I  thought  everybody  know'd 
as  a  Sawbones  was  a  Surgeon.' 


2  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Oh,  a  Surgeon,  eh?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a 
smile. 

'Just  that,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'These  here  ones  as 
is  below,  though,  ain't  reg'lar  thorough-bred  Saw- 
bones ;  they  're  only  in  trainin Y 

'In  other  words  they  're  Medical  Students,  I  sup- 
pose?' said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  Weller  nodded  assent. 

'I  am  glad  of  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  casting  his 
nightcap  energetically  on  the  counterpane.  'They 
are  fine  fellows;  very  fine  fellows;  with  judgments 
matured  by  observation  and  reflection;  tastes  refined 
by  reading  and  study.  I  am  very  glad  of  it.' 

'They  're  smokin'  cigars  by  the  kitchen  fire,'  said 
Sam. 

'Ah!'  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  hands, 
'overflowing  with  kindly  feelings  and  animal  spirits. 
Just  what  I  like  to  see.' 

'And  one  on  'em,'  said  Sam,  not  noticing  his  mas- 
ter's interruption,  'one  on  'em 's  got  his  legs  on 
the  table,  and  is  a  drinkin'  brandy  neat,  vile  the  t'other 
one — him  in  the  barnacles — has  got  a  barrel  o'  oysters 
atween  his  knees,  wich  he  's  openin'  like  steam,  and 
as  fast  as  he  eats  'em,  he  takes  a  aim  vith  the  shells 
at  young  dropsy,  who  's  a  sittin'  down  fast  asleep,  in 
the  chimbley  corner.' 

'Eccentricities  of  genius,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'You  may  retire.' 

Sam  did  retire  accordingly;  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  the 
expiration  of  the  quarter  of  an  hour,  went  down  to 
breakfast. 

'Here  he  is  at  last!'  said  old  Mr.  Wardle.  'Pick- 
wick, this  is  Miss  Allen's  brother,  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen.  Ben  we  call  him,  and  so  may  you  if  you  like. 
This  gentleman  is  his  very  particular  friend,  Mr.— 

'Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,'  interposed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen; 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  3 

whereupon  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  laughed  in  concert. 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  Bob  Sawyer,  and  Bob 
Sawyer  bowed  to  Mr.  Pickwick;  Bob  and  his  very 
particular  friend  then  applied  themselves  most  as- 
siduously to  the  eatables  before  them;  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  an  opportunity  of  glancing  at  them  both. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  was  a  coarse;  stout,  thick-set 
young  man,  with  black  hair  cut  rather  short,  and  a 
white  face  cut  rather  long.  He  was  embellished  with 
spectacles,  and  wore  a  white  neckerchief.  Below 
his  single-breasted  black  surtout,  which  was  buttoned 
up  to  his  chin,  appeared  the  usual  number  of  pepper- 
and-salt  coloured  legs,  terminating  in  a  pair  of  im- 
perfectly polished  boots.  Although  his  coat  was 
short  in  the  sleeves,  it  disclosed  no  vestige  of  a  linen 
wristband;  and  although  there  was  quite  enough  of 
his  face  to  admit  of  the  encroachment  of  a  shirt  col- 
lar, it  was  not  graced  by  the  smallest  approach  to 
that  appendage.  He  presented,  altogether,  rather  a 
mildewy  appearance,  and  emitted  a  fragrant  odour 
of  full-flavoured  Cubas. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  was  habited  in  a  coarse  blue 
coat,  which,  without  being  either  a  great-coat  or  a 
surtout,  partook  of  the  nature  and  qualities  of  both, 
had  about  him  that  sort  of  slovenly  smartness,  and 
swaggering  gait,  which  is  peculiar  to  young  gentle- 
men who  smoke  in  the  streets  by  day,  shout  and 
scream  in  the  same  by  night,  call  waiters  by  their 
Christian  names,  and  do  various  other  acts  and  deeds 
of  an  equally  facetious  description.  He  wore  a  pair 
of  plaid  trousers,  and  a  large  rough  double-breasted 
waistcoat;  out  of  doors,  he  carried  a  thick  stick  with 
a  big  top.  He  eschewed  gloves,  and  looked,  upon 
the  whole,  something  like  a  dissipated  Robinson 
Crusoe. 


4  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Such  were  the  two  worthies  to  whom  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  introduced,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  break- 
fast-table on  Christmas  morning. 

'Splendid  morning,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  slightly  nodded  his  assent  to  the 
proposition,  and  asked  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  for  the 
mustard. 

'Have  you  come  far  this  morning,  gentlemen?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Blue  Lion  at  Muggleton,'  briefly  responded  Mr. 
Allen. 

'You  should  have  joined  us  last  night,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'So  we  should/  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  'but  the  brandy 
was  too  good  to  leave  in  a  hurry:  wasn't  it,  Ben?' 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen;  'and  the 
cigars  were  not  bad,  or  the  pork  chops  either:  were 
they,  Bob?' 

'Decidedly  not,'  said  Bob.  The  particular  friends 
resumed  their  attack  upon  the  breakfast,  more  freely 
than  before,  as  if  the  recollection  of  last  night's  sup- 
per had  imparted  a  new  relish  to  the  meal. 

'Peg  away,  Bob,'  said  Mr.  Allen  to  his  companion, 
encouragingly. 

'So  I  do,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  And  so,  to  do 
him  justice,  he  did. 

'Nothing  like  dissecting,  to  give  one  an  appetite,' 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  round  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  slightly  shuddered. 

'By  the  bye,  Bob,'  said  Mr.  Allen,  'have  you  finished 
that  leg  yet?' 

'Nearly,'  replied  Sawyer,  helping  himself  to  half  a 
fowl  as  he  spoke.  'It 's  a  very  muscular  one  for  a 
child's.' 

'Is  it?'  inquired  Mr.  Allen,  carelessly. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  5 

'Very,'  said  Bob  Sawyer,  with  his  mouth  full. 

'I  've  put  my  name  down  for  an  arm,  at  our  place,' 
said  Mr.  Allen.  'We  're  clubbing  for  a  subject,  arid 
the  list  is  nearly  full,  only  we  can't  get  hold  of  any 
fellow  that  wants  a  head.  I  wish  you  'd  take  it.' 

'No,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer;  'can't  afford  expensive 
luxuries.' 

'Nonsense !'  said  Allen. 

'Can't  indeed,'  rejoined  Bob  Sawyer.  'I  wouldn't 
mind  a  brain,  but  I  couldn't  stand  a  whole  head.' 

'Hush,  hush,  gentlemen,  pray,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'I  hear  the  ladies.' 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  spoke,  the  ladies,  gallantly  es- 
corted by  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and  Tupman, 
returned  from  an  early  walk. 

'Why,  Ben!'  said  Arabella,  in  a  tone  which  ex- 
pressed more  surprise  than  pleasure  at  the  sight  of 
her  brother. 

'Come  to  take  you  home  to-morrow,'  replied  Benja- 
min. 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  pale. 

'Don't  you  see  Bob  Sawyer,  Arabella?'  inquired 
Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  somewhat  reproachfully.  Ara- 
bella gracefully  held  out  her  hand,  in  acknowledgment 
of  Bob  Sawyer's  presence.  A  thrill  of  hatred  struck 
to  Mr.  Winkle's  heart,  as  Bob  Sawyer  inflicted  on  the 
proffered  hand  a  perceptible  squeeze. 

'Ben,  dear!'  said  Arabella,  blushing;  'have — have— 
you  been  introduced  to  Mr.  Winkle?' 

'I  have  not  been,  but  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  be, 
Arabella,'  replied  her  brother,  gravely.  Here  Mr. 
Allen  bowed  grimly  to  Mr.  Winkle,  while  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  glanced  mutual  distrust  out  of 
the  corners  of  their  eyes. 

The  arrival  of  the  two  new  visitors,  and  the  conse- 
quent check  upon  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  young  lady  with 


6  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  fur  round  her  boots,  would  in  all  probability  have 
proved  a  very  unpleasant  interruption  to  the  hilarity 
of  the  party,  had  not  the  cheerfulness  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, and  the  good  humour  of  the  host,  been  exerted 
to  the  very  utmost  for  the  common  weal.  Mr.  Win- 
kle gradually  insinuated  himself  into  the  good  graces 
of  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  even  joined  in  a  friendly 
conversation  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer;  who,  enlivened 
with  the  brandy,  and  the  breakfast,  and  the  talking, 
gradually  ripened  into  a  state  of  extreme  facetious- 
ness,  and  related  with  much  glee  an  agreeable  anec- 
dote, about  the  removal  of  a  tumour  on  some  gentle- 
man's head:  which  he  illustrated  by  means  of  an 
oyster-knife  and  a  half -quartern  loaf,  to  the  great 
edification  of  the  assembled  company.  Then,  the 
whole  train  went  to  church,  where  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  fell  fast  asleep:  while  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ab- 
stracted his  thoughts  from  worldly  matters,  by  the 
ingenious  process  of  carving  his  name  on  the  seat  of 
the  pew,  in  corpulent  letters  of  four  inches  long. 

'Now,'  said  Wardle,  after  a  substantial  lunch,  with 
the  agreeable  items  of  strong-beer  and  cherry -brandy, 
had  been  done  ample  justice  to;  'what  say  you  to  an 
hour  on  the  ice?  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time.' 

'Capital!'  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'Prime!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'You  skate,  of  course,  Winkle?'  said  Wardle. 

'Ye-yes;  oh,  yes/  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  'I — I — am 
rather  out  of  practice.' 

'Oh,  do  skate,  Mr.  Winkle,'  said  Arabella.  'I  like 
to  see  it  so  much.' 

'Oh,  it  is  so  graceful,'  said  another  young  lady. 

A  third  young  lady  said  it  was  elegant,  and  a  fourth 
expressed  her  opinion  that  it  was  'swan-like.' 

'I  should  be  very  happy,  I  'm  sure,'  said  Mr.  Win- 
kle, reddening;  'but  I  have  no  skates.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  7 

This  objection  was  at  once  overruled.  Trundle  had 
a  couple  of  pair,  and  the  fat  boy  announced  that  there 
were  half  a  dozen  more  downstairs :  whereat  Mr.  Win- 
kle expressed  exquisite  delight,  and  looked  exquisitely 
uncomfortable. 

Old  Wardle  led  the  way  to  a  pretty  large  sheet  of 
ice;  and  the  fat  boy  and  Mr.  Weller  having  shovelled 
and  swept  away  the  snow  which  had  fallen  on  it  dur- 
ing the  night,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  adjusted  his  skates 
with  a  dexterity  which  to  Mr.  Winkle  was  perfectly 
marvellous,  and  described  circles  with  his  left  leg,  and 
cut  figures  of  eight,  and  inscribed  upon  the  ice,  with- 
out once  stopping  for  breath,  a  great  many  other 
pleasant  and  astonishing  devices,  to  the  excessive 
satisfaction  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr.  Tupman,  and  the 
ladies:  which  reached  a  pitch  of  positive  enthusiasm, 
when  old  Wardle  and  Benjamin  Allen,  assisted  by  the 
aforesaid  Bob  Sawyer,  performed  some  mystic  evolu- 
tions, which  they  called  a  reel. 

All  this  time,  Mr.  Winkle,  with  his  face  and  hands 
blue  with  the  cold,  had  been  forcing  a  gimlet  into 
the  soles  of  his  feet,  and  putting  his  skates  on,  with 
the  points  behind,  and  getting  the  straps  into  a  very 
complicated  and  entangled  state,  with  the  assistance 
of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  knew  rather  less  about  skates 
than  a  Hindoo.  At  length,  however,  with  the  assis- 
tance of  Mr.  Weller,  the  unfortunate  skates  were 
firmly  screwed  and  buckled  on,  and  Mr.  Winkle  was 
raised  to  his  feet. 

'Now,  then,  sir,'  said  Sam,  in  an  encouraging  tone; 
'off  vith  you,  and  show  'em  how  to  do  it.' 

'Stop,  Sam,  stop!'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling 
violently,  and  clutching  hold  of  Sam's  arms  with  the 
grasp  of  a  drowning  man.  'How  slippery  it  is, 
Sam!' 


8  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Not  an  uncommon  thing  upon  ice,  sir/  replied  Mr. 
Weller.  'Hold  up,  sir!' 

This  last  observation  of  Mr.  Weller's  bore  reference 
to  a  demonstration  Mr.  Winkle  made  at  the  instant, 
of  a  frantic  desire  to  throw  his  feet  in  the  air,  and 
dash  the  back  of  his  head  on  the  ice. 

'These — these — are  very  awkward  skates ;  ain't  they, 
Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  staggering. 

'I  'm  af  eered  there  's  a  orkard  gen'l'm'n  in  'em,  sir,' 
replied  Sam. 

'Now,  Winkle,'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  there  was  anything  the  matter.  'Come; 
the  ladies  are  all  anxiety.' 

'Yes,  yes,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  with  a  ghastly  smile. 
'I  'm  coming.' 

'Just  a  goin'  to  begin,'  said  Sam,  endeavouring  to 
disengage  himself.  'Now,  sir,  start  off !' 

'Stop  an  instant,  Sam,'  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  cling- 
ing most  affectionately  to  Mr.  Weller.  'I  find  I  've 
got  a  couple  of  coats  at  home  that  I  don't  want,  Sam. 
You  may  have  them,  Sam.' 

'Thank  'ee,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'Never  mind  touching  your  hat,  Sam,'  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  hastily.  'You  needn't  take  your  hand  away 
to  do  that.  I  meant  to  have  given  you  five  shillings 
this  morning  for  a  Christmas-box,  Sam.  I  '11  give  it 
to  you  this  afternoon,  Sam.' 

'You  're  wery  good,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'Just  hold  me  at  first,  Sam;  will  you?'  said  Mr. 
Winkle.  'There — that 's  right.  I  shall  soon  get  in 
the  way  of  it,  Sam.  Not  too  fast ;  not  too  fast.' 

Mr.  Winkle  stooping  forward,  with  his  body  half 
doubled  up,  was  being  assisted  over  the  ice  by  Mr. 
Weller,  in  a  very  singular  and  un-swan-like  manner, 
when  Mr.  Pickwick  most  innocently  shouted  from  the 
opposite  bank- — 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  9 

'Sam!' 

'Sir?' 

'Here.     I  want  you.' 

'Let  go,  sir,'  said  Sam.     'Don't  you  hear  the  gov- 
ernor a  callin'?     Let  go,  sir.' 

With  a  violent  effort,  Mr.  Weller  disengaged  him' 
self  from  the  grasp  of  the  agonised  Pickwickian,  and, 
in  so  doing,  administered  a  considerable  impetus  to 
the  unhappy  Mr.  Winkle.  With  an  accuracy  which 
no  degree  of  dexterity  or  practice  could  have  insured, 
that  unfortunate  gentleman  bore  swiftly  down  into 
the  centre  of  the  reel,  at  the  very  moment  when  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  was  performing  a  flourish  of  unparalleled 
beauty.  Mr.  Winkle  struck  wildly  against  him,  and 
with  a  loud  crash  they  both  fell  heavily  down.  Mr. 
Pickwick  ran  to  the  spot.  Bob  Sawyer  had  risen  to 
his  feet,  but  Mr.  Winkle  was  far  too  wise  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind,  in  skates.  He  was  seated  on  the 
ice  making  spasmodic  efforts  to  smile ;  but  anguish  was 
depicted  on  every  lineament  of  his  countenance. 

'Are  you  hurt?'  inquired  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  with 
some  anxiety. 

'Not  much,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rubbing  his  back  very 
hard. 

'I  wish  you  'd  let  me  bleed  you,'  said  Mr.  Benjamin, 
with  great  eagerness. 

'No,  thank  you,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  hurriedly. 

'I  really  think  you  had  better,'  said  Allen. 

'Thank  you,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle;  'I  'd  rather  not.* 

'What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick?'  inquired  Bob 
Sawyer. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  excited  and  indignant.  He 
beckoned  to  Mr.  Weller,  and  said  in  a  stern  voice, 
'Take  his  skates  off.' 

'No;  but  really  I  had  scarcely  begun,'  remonstrated 
Mr.  Winkle. 


10  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Take  his  skates  off,'  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick  firmly. 

The  command  was  not  to  be  resisted.  Mr.  Winkle 
allowed  Sam  to  obey  it  in  silence. 

'Lift  him  up,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  Sam  assisted 
him  to  rise. 

%  Mr.  Pickwick  retired  a  few  paces  apart  from  the 
bystanders;  and,  beckoning  his  friend  to  approach, 
fixed  a  searching  look  upon  him,  and  uttered  in  a  low, 
but  distinct  and  emphatic  tone,  these  remarkable 
words — 

'You  're  a  humbug,  sir.' 

'A  what?'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  starting. 

'A  humbug,  sir.  I  will  speak  plainer,  if  you  wish 
it.  An  impostor,  sir.' 

With  those  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  turned  slowly  on 
his  heel,  and  rejoined  his  friends. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  delivering  himself  of  the 
sentiment  just  recorded,  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy, 
having  by  their  joint  endeavours  cut  out  a  slide,  were 
exercising  themselves  thereupon,  in  a  very  masterly 
and  brilliant  manner.  Sam  Weller,  in  particular,  was 
displaying  that  beautiful  feat  of  fancy-sliding  which 
is  currently  denominated  'knocking  at  the  cobbler's 
door,'  and  which  is  achieved  by  skimming  over  the  ice 
on  one  foot,  and  occasionally  giving  a  postman's 
knock  upon  it  with  the  other.  It  was  a  good  long 
slide,  and  there  was  something  in  the  motion  which  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  was  very  cold  with  standing  still,  could 
not  help  envying. 

'It  looks  a  nice  warm  exercise  that,  doesn't  it?'  he 
inquired  of  Wardle,  when  that  gentleman  was  thor- 
oughly out  of  breath,  by  reason  of  the  indefatigable 
manner  in  which  he  had  converted  his  legs  into  a  pair 
of  compasses,  and  drawn  complicated  problems  on  the 
ice. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  11 

'Ah,  it  does  indeed,'  replied  Wardle.  'Do  you 
slide?' 

'I  used  to  do  so,  on  the  gutters,  when  I  was  a  boy,' 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Try  it  now,'  said  Wardle. 

'Oh  do  please,  Mr.  Pickwick !'  cried  all  the  ladies. 

'I  should  be  very  happy  to  afford  you  any  amuse- 
ment,' replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'but  I  haven't  done  such 
a  thing  these  thirty  years.' 

'Pooh!  pooh!  Nonsense!'  said  Wardle,  dragging 
off  his  skates  with  the  impetuosity  which  characterised 
all  his  proceedings.  'Here;  I  '11  keep  you  company; 
come  along !'  And  away  went  the  good-tempered  old 
fellow  down  the  slide,  with  a  rapidity  which  came  very 
close  upon  Mr.  Weller,  and  beat  the  fat  boy  all  to 
nothing. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  considered,  pulled  off  his 
gloves  and  put  them  in  his  hat :  took  two  or  three  short 
runs,  baulked  himself  as  often,  and  at  last  took  another 
run,  and  went  slowrly  and  gravely  down  the  slide,  with 
his  feet  about  a  yard  and  a  quarter  apart,  amidst  the 
gratified  shouts  of  all  the  spectators. 

'Keep  the  pot  a  bilin',  sir!'  said  Sam;  and  down 
went  Wardle  again,  and  then  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then 
Sam,  and  then  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  and  then  the  fat  boy,  and  then  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  following  closely  upon  each  other's  heels,  and 
running  after  each  other  writh  as  much  eagerness  as 
if  all  their  future  prospects  in  life  depended  on  their 
expedition. 

It  was  the  most  intensely  interesting  thing,  to  ob- 
serve the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  performed 
his  share  in  the  ceremony;  to  watch  the  torture  of 
anxiety  with  which  he  viewed  the  person  behind,  gain- 
ing upon  him  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  tripping  him 


12  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

up;  to  see  him  gradually  expend  the  painful  force  he 
had  put  on  at  first,  and  turn  slowly  round  on  the  slide, 
with  his  face  towards  the  point  from  which  he  had 
started;  to  contemplate  the  playful  smile  which  man- 
tled on  his  face  when  he  had  accomplished  the  distance, 
and  the  eagerness  with  which  he  turned  round  when  he 
had  done  so,  and  ran  after  his  predecessor:  his  black 
gaiters  tripping  pleasantly  through  the  snow,  and 
his  eyes  beaming  cheerfulness  and  gladness  through 
his  spectacles.  And  when  he  was  knocked  down 
(which  happened  upon  the  average  every  third 
round),  it  was  the  most  invigorating  sight  that  can 
possibly  be  imagined,  to  behold  him  gather  up  his  hat, 
gloves,  and  handkerchief,  with  a  glowing  countenance, 
and  resume  his  station  in  the  rank,  with  an  ardour  and 
enthusiasm  that  nothing  could  abate. 

The  sport  was  at  its  height,  the  sliding  was  at  the 
quickest,  the  laughter  was  at  the  loudest,  when  a  sharp 
smart  crack  was  heard.  There  was  a  quick  rush 
towards  the  bank,  a  wild  scream  from  the  ladies,  and 
a  shout  from  Mr.  Tupman.  A  large  mass  of  ice 
disappeared;  the  water  bubbled  over  it;  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's hat,  gloves,  and  handkerchief  were  floating  on 
the  surface;  and  this  was  all  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that 
anybody  could  see. 

Dismay  and  anguish  were  depicted  on  every  coun- 
tenance, the  males  turned  pale,  and  the  females 
fainted,  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  grasped  each 
other  oy  the  hand,  and  gazed  at  the  spot  where  their 
leader  had  gone  down,  with  frenzied  eagerness ;  while 
Mr.  Tupman,  by  way  of  rendering  the  promptest  as- 
sistance, and  at  the  same  time  conveying  to  any  per- 
sons who  might  be  within  hearing,  the  clearest  possible 
notion  of  the  catastrophe,  ran  off  across  the  country 
at  his  utmost  speed,  screaming  'Firel'  with  all  his 
might. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  13 

It  was  at  this  moment,  when  old  Wardle  and  Sam 
Weller  were  approaching  the  hole  with  cautious  steps, 
and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  was  holding  a  hurried  con- 
sultation with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  on  the  advisability  of 
bleeding  the  company  generally,  as  an  improving  lit- 
tle bit  of  professional  practice — it  was  at  this  very 
moment,  that  a  face,  head,  and  shoulders,  emerged 
from  beneath  the  water,  and  disclosed  the  features  and 
spectacles  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Keep  yourself  up  for  an  instant — for  only  one 
instant!'  bawled  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Yes,  do;  let  me  implore  you — for  my  sake!'  roared 
Mr.  Winkle,  deeply  affected.  The  adjuration  was 
rather  unnecessary ;  the  probability  being,  that  if  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  declined  to  keep  himself  up  for  any- 
body else's  sake,  it  would  have  occurred  to  him  that 
he  might  as  well  do  so,  for  his  own. 

'Do  you  feel  the  bottom  there,  old  fellow?'  said 
Wardle. 

'Yes,  certainly,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  wringing 
the  water  from  his  head  and  face,  and  gasping  for 
breath.  'I  fell  upon  my  back.  I  couldn't  get  on 
my  feet  at  first.' 

The  clay  upon  so  much  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  coat  as 
was  yet  visible,  bore  testimony  to  the  accuracy  of  this 
statement;  and  as  the  fears  of  the  spectators  were 
still  further  relieved  by  the  fat  boy's  suddenly  recol- 
lecting that  the  water  was  nowhere  more  than  five 
feet  deep,  prodigies  of  valour  were  performed  to  get 
him  out.  After  a  vast  quantity  of  splashing,  and 
cracking,  and  struggling,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  at  length 
fairly  extricated  from  his  unpleasant  position,  and 
once  more  stood  on  dry  land. 

'Oh,  he  '11  catch  his  death  of  cold,'  said  Emily. 

'Dear  old  thing !'  said  Arabella.  'Let  me  wrap  this 
shawl  round  you,  Mr.  Pickwick.' 


14  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Ah,  that 's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,'  said  Wardle; 
'and  when  you  Ve  got  it  on,  run  home  as  fast  as  your 
legs  can  carry  you,  and  jump  into  bed  directly.' 

A  dozen  shawls  were  offered  on  the  instant.  Three 
or  four  of  the  thickest  having  been  selected,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  wrapped  up,  and  started  off,  under  the 
guidance  of  Mr.  Weller:  presenting  the  singular 
phenomenon  of  an  elderly  gentleman,  dripping  wet, 
and  without  a  hat,  with  his  arms  bound  down  to  his 
sides,  skimming  over  the  ground,  without  any  clearly 
defined  purpose,  at  the  rate  of  six  good  English  miles 
an  hour. 

But  Mr.  Pickwick  cared  not  for  appearances  in  such 
an  extreme  case,  and  urged  on  by  Sam  Weller,  he 
kept  at  the  very  top  of  his  speed  until  he  reached  the 
door  of  Manor  Farm,  where  Mr.  Tupman  had  arrived 
some  five  minutes  before,  and  had  frightened  the  old 
lady  into  palpitations  of  the  heart  by  impressing  her 
with  the  unalterable  conviction  that  the  kitchen  chim- 
ney was  on  fire — a  calamity  which  always  presented 
itself  in  glowing  colours  to  the  old  lady's  mind,  when 
anybody  about  her  evinced  the  smallest  agitation. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused  not  an  instant  until  he  was 
snug  in  bed.  Sam  Weller  lighted  a  blazing  fire  in 
the  room,  and  took  up  his  dinner ;  a  bowl  of  punch  was 
carried  up  afterwards,  and  a  grand  carouse  held  in 
honour  of  his  safety.  Old  Wardle  would  not  hear 
of  his  rising,  so  they  made  the  bed  the  chair,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  presided.  A  second  and  third  bowl  were 
ordered  in;  and  when  Mr.  Pickwick  awoke  next  morn- 
ing, there  was  not  a  symptom  of  rheumatism  about 
him:  which  proves,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  very  justly 
observed,  that  there  is  nothing  like  hot  punch  in  such 
cases:  and  that  if  ever  hot  punch  did  fail  to  act  as  a 
preventive,  it  was  merely  because  the  patient  fell  into 
the  vulgar  error  of  not  taking  enough  of  it. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  15 

The  jovial  party  broke  up  next  morning.  Break- 
ings-up  are  capital  things  in  our  school  days,  but  in 
after  life  they  are  painful  enough.  Death,  self-inter- 
est, and  fortune's  changes,  are  every  day  breaking  up 
many  a  happy  group,  and  scattering  them  far  and 
wide;  and  the  boys  and  girls  never  come  back  again. 
We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  it  was  exactly  the  case  in 
this  particular  instance;  all  we  wish  to  inform  the 
reader  is,  that  the  different  members  of  the  party 
dispersed  to  their  several  homes;  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  friends  once  more  took  their  seats  on  the  top 
of  the  Muggleton  coach;  and  that  Arabella  Allen 
repaired  to  her  place  of  destination,  wherever  it  might 
have  been — we  dare  say  Mr.  Winkle  knew,  but  we 
confess  we  don't — under  the  care  and  guardianship  of 
her  brother  Benjamin,  and  his  most  intimate  and 
particular  friend,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

Before  they  separated,  however,  that  gentleman  and 
Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  drew  Mr.  Pickwick  aside  with 
an  air  of  some  mystery;  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  thrust- 
ing his  forefinger  between  two  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  ribs, 
and  thereby  displaying  his  native  drollery,  and  his 
knowledge  of  the  anatomy  of  the  human  frame,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  inquired — 

'I  say,  old  boy,  where  do  you  hang  out?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  that  he  was  at  present  sus- 
pended at  the  George  and  Vulture. 

'I  wish  you  'd  come  and  see  me,'  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,'  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'There  's  my  lodgings,'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  pro- 
ducing a  card.  'Lant  Street,  Borough;  it's  near 
Guy's,  and  handy  for  me,  you  know.  Little  distance 
after  you've  passed  Saint  George's  Church — turns 
out  of  the  High  Street  on  the  right-hand  side  the 
way.' 


16  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  shall  find  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Come  on  Thursday  fortnight,  and  bring  the  other 
chaps  with  you,'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  'I  'm  going 
to  have  a  few  medical  fellows  that  night.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  the  pleasure  it  would  afford 
him  to  meet  the  medical  fellows;  and  after  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  had  informed  him  that  he  meant  to  be  very 
cosey,  and  that  his  friend  Ben  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party,  they  shook  hands  and  separated. 

We  feel  that  in  this  place  we  lay  ourselves  open  to 
the  inquiry  whether  Mr.  Winkle  was  whispering,  dur- 
ing this  brief  conversation,  to  Arabella  Allen ;  and  if 
so,  what  he  said;  and  furthermore,  whether  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  was  conversing  apart  with  Emily  Wardle;  and 
if  so  what  he  said.  To  this,  we  reply,  that  whatever 
they  might  have  said  to  the  ladies,  they  said  nothing 
at  all  to  Mr.  Pickwick  or  Mr.  Tupman  for  eight-and- 
twenty  miles,  and  that  they  sighed  very  often,  refused 
ale  and  brandy,  and  looked  gloomy.  If  our  observant 
lady  readers  can  deduce  any  satisfactory  inferences 
from  these  facts,  we  beg  them  by  all  means  to  do  so. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

WHICH   IS  ALL  ABOUT  THE  LAW,  AND   SUNDRY  GREAT 
AUTHORITIES  LEARNED  THEREIN 

SCATTERED  about,  in  various  holes  and  corners  of  the 
Temple  are  certain  dark  and  dirty  chambers,  in  and 
out  of  which,  all  the  morning  in  Vacation,  and  half 
the  evening  too  in  Term  time,  there  may  be  seen 
constantly  hurrying  with  bundles  of  papers  under 
their  arms,  and  protruding  from  their  pockets,  an 
almost  uninterrupted  succession  of  Lawyers'  Clerks. 
There  are  several  grades  of  Lawyers'  Clerks.  There 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  17 

is  the  articled  clerk,  who  has  paid  a  premium,  and  is 
an  attorney  in  perspective,  who  runs  a  tailor's  bill, 
receives  invitations  to  parties,  knows  a  family  in 
Gower  Street,  and  another  in  Tavistock  Square :  who 
goes  out  of  town  every  Long  Vacation  to  see  his 
father,  who  keeps  live  horses  innumerable;  and  who 
is,  in  short,  the  very  aristocrat  of  clerks.  There  is  the 
salaried  clerk — out  of  door,  or  in  door,  as  the  case  may 
be — who  devotes  the  major  part  of  his  thirty  shillings 
a  week  to  his  personal  pleasure  and  adornment,  repairs 
half-price  to  the  Adelphi  Theatre  at  least  three  times 
a  week,  dissipates  majestically  at  the  Cider  Cellars 
afterwards,  and  is  a  dirty  caricature  of  the  fashion 
which  expired  six  months  ago.  There  is  the  middle- 
aged  copying  clerk,  with  a  large  family,  who  is  always 
shabby,  and  often  drunk.  And  there  are  the  office 
lads  in  their  first  surtouts,  who  feel  a  befitting  con- 
tempt for  boys  at  day-schools:  club  as  they  go  home 
at  night,  for  saveloys  and  porter:  and  think  there  's 
nothing  like  'life.'  There  are  varieties  of  the  genus, 
too  numerous  to  recapitulate,  but  however  numerous 
they  may  be,  they  are  all  to  be  seen,  at  certain  regu- 
lated business  hours,  hurrying  to  and  from  the  places 
we  have  just  mentioned. 

These  sequestered  nooks  are  the  public  offices  of  the 
legal  profession,  where  writs  are  issued,  judgments 
signed,  declarations  filed,  and  numerous  other  in- 
genious machines  put  in  motion  for  the  torture  and 
torment  of  his  Majesty's  liege  subjects,  and  the  com- 
fort and  emolument  of  the  practitioners  of  the  law. 
They  are,  for  the  most  part,  low-roofed,  mouldy 
rooms,  where  innumerable  rolls  of  parchment,  which 
have  been  perspiring  in  secret  for  the  last  century, 
send  forth  an  agreeable  odour,  which  is  mingled  by 
day  with  the  scent  of  the  dry  rot,  and  by  night  with 
the  various  exhalations  which  arise  from  damp  cloaks, 


18  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

festering  umbrellas,  and  the  coarsest  tallow  candles. 

About  half -past  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  some 
ten  days  or  a  fortnight  after  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends  returned  to  London,  there  hurried  into  one  of 
these  offices,  an  individual  in  a  brown  coat  and  brass 
buttons,  whose  long  hair  was  scrupulously  twisted 
round  the  rim  of  his  napless  hat,  and  whose  soiled  drab 
trousers  were  so  tightly  strapped  over  his  Blucher 
boots,  that  his  knees  threatened  every  moment  to  start 
from  their  concealment.  He  produced  from  his  coat 
pockets  a  long  and  narrow  strip  of  parchment,  on 
which  the  presiding  functionary  impressed  an  illegible 
black  stamp.  He  then  drew  forth  four  scraps  of 
paper,  of  similar  dimensions,  each  containing  a  printed 
copy  of  the  strip  of  parchment  with  blanks  for  a  name ; 
and  having  filled  up  the  blanks,  put  all  the  five  docu- 
ments in  his  pocket,  and  hurried  away. 

The  man  in  the  brown  coat,  with  the  cabalistic  docu- 
ments in  his  pockets,  was  no  other  than  our  old  ac- 
quaintance Mr.  Jackson,  of  the  house  of  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill.  Instead  of  return- 
ing to  the  office  from  whence  he  came,  however,  he 
bent  his  steps  direct  to  Sun  Court,  and  walking 
straight  into  the  George  and  Vulture,  demanded  to 
know  whether  one  Mr.  Pickwick  was  within. 

'Call  Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,  Tom,'  said  the  bar- 
maid of  the  George  and  Vulture. 

'Don't  trouble  yourself,'  said  Mr.  Jackson,  'I  Ve 
come  on  business.  If  you  '11  show  me  Mr.  Pickwick's 
room,  I  '11  step  up  myself.' 

'What  name,  sir?'  said  the  waiter. 

'Jackson,'  replied  the  clerk. 

The  waiter  stepped  upstairs  to  announce  Mr.  Jack- 
son; but  Mr.  Jackson  saved  him  the  trouble  by  fol- 
lowing close  at  his  heels,  and  walking  into  the  apart- 
ment before  he  could  articulate  a  syllable. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  19 

Mr.  Pickwick  had,  that  day,  invited  his  three  friends 
to  dinner;  they  were  all  seated  round  the  fire,  drinking 
their  wine,  when  Mr.  Jackson  presented  himself,  as 
above  described. 

'How  de  do,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Jackson,  nodding  to  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

That  gentleman  bowed,  and  looked  somewhat  sur- 
prised, for  the  physiognomy  of  Mr.  Jackson  dwelt  not 
in  his  recollection. 

'I  have  called  from  Dodson  and  Fogg's/  said  Mr. 
Jackson,  in  an  explanatory  tone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  roused  at  the  name.  'I  refer  you  to 
my  attorney,  sir :  Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn,'  said  he. 
'Waiter,  show  this  gentleman  out.' 

'Beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Jackson,  de- 
liberately depositing  his  hat  on  the  floor,  and  drawing 
from  his  pocket  the  strip  of  parchment.  'But  per- 
sonal service,  by  clerk  or  agent,  in  these  cases,  you 
know,  Mr.  Pickwick — nothing  like  caution,  sir,  in  all 
legal  forms.' 

Here  Mr.  Jackson  cast  his  eye  on  the  parchment; 
and,  resting  his  hands  on  the  table,  and  looking  round 
with  a  winning  and  persuasive  smile,  said,  'Now,  come ; 
don't  let 's  have  no  words  about  such  a  little  matter  as 
this.  Which  of  you  gentlemen's  name  's  Snodgrass?' 

At  this  inquiry  Mr.  Snodgrass  gave  such  a  very  un- 
disguised and  palpable  start,  that  no  further  reply 
was  needed. 

'Ah !  I  thought  so/  said  Mr.  Jackson,  more  affably 
than  before.  'I  Ve  got  a  little  something  to  trouble 
you  with,  sir.' 

'Me!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'It  's  only  a  subpoena  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick  on 
behalf  of  the  plaintiff /  replied  Jackson,  singling  put 
one  of  the  slips  of  paper,  and  producing  a  shilling 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  'It  '11  come  on,  in  the  set- 


20  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tens  after  Term ;  fourteenth  of  Febooary,  we  expect ; 
we  Ve  marked  it  a  special  jury  cause,  and  it 's  only  ten 
down  the  paper.  That 's  yours,  Mr.  Snodgrass.'  As 
Jackson  said  this  he  presented  the  parchment  before 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  slipped  the  paper  and 
the  shilling  into  his  hand. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  witnessed  this  process  in  silent 
astonishment,  when  Jackson,  turning  sharply  upon 
him,  said — 

'I  think  I  ain't  mistaken  when  I  say  your  name  's 
Tupman,  am  I?' 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick ;  but,  perceiv- 
ing no  encouragement  in  that  gentleman's  widely- 
opened  eyes  to  deny  his  name,  said — 

'Yes,  my  name  is  Tupman,  sir.' 

'And  that  other  gentleman  's  Mr.  Winkle,  I  think?' 
said  Jackson. 

Mr.  Winkle  faltered  out  a  reply  in  the  affirmative ; 
and  both  gentlemen  were  forthwith  invested  with  a 
slip  of  paper,  and  a  shilling  each,  by  the  dexterous 
Mr.  Jackson. 

'Now,'  said  Jackson,  'I  'm  afraid  you  '11  think  me 
rather  troublesome,  but  I  want  somebody  else,  if  it 
ain't  inconvenient.  I  have  Samuel  Weller's  name 
here,  Mr.  Pickwick.' 

'Send  my  servant  here,  waiter/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
The  waiter  retired,  considerably  astonished,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  motioned  Jackson  to  a  seat. 

There  was  a  painful  pause,  which  was  at  length 
broken  by  the  innocent  defendant. 

'I  suppose,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  indignation 
rising  while  he  spoke;  'I  suppose,  sir,  that  it  is  the 
intention  of  your  employers  to  seek  to  criminate  me 
upon  the  testimony  of  my  own  friends?' 

Mr.  Jackson  struck  his  forefinger  several  times 
against  the  left  side  of  his  nose,  to  intimate  that  he 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  21 

was  not  there  to  disclose  the  secrets  of  the  prison-house, 
and  playfully  rejoined — 

'Not  knowin',  can't  say.' 

'For  what  other  reason,  sir,'  pursued  Mr.  Pickwick, 
*are  these  subpoenas  served  upon  them,  if  not  for 
this?' 

'Very  good  plant,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  replied  Jackson, 
slowly  shaking  his  head.  'But  it  won't  do.  No  harm 
in  trying,  but  there  's  little  to  be  got  out  of  me.' 

Here  Mr.  Jackson  smiled  once  more  upon  the  com- 
pany, and,  applying  his  left  thumb  to  the  tip  of  his 
nose,  worked  a  visionary  coffee-mill  with  his  right 
hand:  thereby  performing  a  very  graceful  piece  of 
pantomime  (then  much  in  vogue,  but  now,  unhappily, 
almost  obsolete)  which  was  familiarly  denominated 
'taking  a  grinder.' 

'No,  no,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Jackson,  in  conclusion ; 
'Perker's  people  must  guess  what  we  Ve  served  these 
subpoenas  for.  If  they  can't,  they  must  wait  till  the 
action  comes  on,  and  then  they'll  find  out.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  bestowed  a  look  of  excessive  disgust 
on  his  unwelcome  visitor,  and  would  probably  have 
hurled  some  tremendous  anathema  at  the  heads  of 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  had  not  Sam's  entrance  at 
the  instant  interrupted  him. 

'Samuel  Weller?'  said  Mr.  Jackson,  inquiringly. 

'Vun  o'  the  truest  things  as  you  Ve  said  for  many 
a  long  year,'  replied  Sam,  in  a  most  composed  man- 
ner. 

'Here  's  a  subpoena  for  you,  Mr.  Weller,'  said 
Jackson. 

'What 's  that  in  English?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Here  's  the  original,'  said  Jackson,  declining  the 
required  explanation. 

'Which?'  said  Sam. 

This,'  replied  Jackson,  shaking  the  parchment. 


22  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Oh,  that's  the  'rig'nal,  is  it?'  said  Sam.  'Well, 
I  'm  wery  glad  I've  seen  the  'rig'nal,  'cos  it 's  a  grati- 
fyin'  sort  o'  thing,  and  eases  vim's  mind  so  much.' 

'And  here  's  the  shilling,'  said  Jackson.  'It 's  from 
Dodson  and  Fogg's.' 

'And  it 's  uncommon  handsome  o'  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  as  knows  so  little  of  me,  to  come  down  vith  a 
present,'  said  Sam.  'I  feel  it  as  a  wery  high  compli- 
ment, sir ;  it 's  a  wery  hon'rable  thing  to  them,  as  they 
knows  how  to  reward  merit  werever  they  meets  it. 
Besides  wich,  it 's  aff ectin'  to  one's  f  eelin's.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  he  inflicted  a  little  friction 
on  his  right  eye-lid,  with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  after 
the  most  approved  manner  of  actors  when  they  are 
in  domestic  pathetics. 

Mr.  Jackson  seemed  rather  puzzled  by  Sam's  pro- 
ceedings; but,  as  he  had  served  the  subpoenas,  and 
had  nothing  more  to  say,  he  made  a  feint  of  putting 
on  the  one  glove  which  he  usually  carried  in  his  hand, 
for  the  sake  of  appearances ;  and  returned  to  the  office 
to  report  progress. 

Mr.  Pickwick  slept  little  that  night ;  his  memory  had 
received  a  very  disagreeable  refresher  on  the  subject 
of  Mrs.  Bardell's  action.  He  breakfasted  betimes 
next  morning,  and,  desiring  Sam  to  accompany  him, 
set  forth  towards  Gray's  Inn  Square. 

'Sam!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round,  when  they 
got  to  the  end  of  Cheapside. 

'Sir?'  said  Sam,  stepping  up  to  his  master. 

'Which  way?' 

'Up  Newgate  Street.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  turn  round  immediately,  but 
looked  vacantly  in  Sam's  face  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

'What 's  the  matter,  sir?'  inquired  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  23 

'This  action,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'is  expected 
to  come  on,  on  the  fourteenth  of  next  month.' 

'Remarkable  coina'dence  that  'ere,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'Why  remarkable,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Walentine's  Day,  sir,'  responded  Sam;  'reg'lar 
good  day  for  a  breach  o'  promise  trial.' 

Mr.  Waller's  smile  awakened  no  gleam  of  mirth  in 
his  master's  countenance.  Mr.  Pickwick  turned  ab- 
ruptly round,  and  led  the  way  in  silence. 

They  had  walked  some  distance :  Mr.  Pickwick  trot- 
ting on  before,  plunged  in  profound  meditation,  and 
Sam  following  behind,  with  a  countenance  expressive 
of  the  most  enviable  and  easy  defiance  of  everything 
and  everybody :  when  the  latter,  who  was  always  espe- 
cially anxious  to  impart  to  his  master  any  exclusive 
information  he  possessed,  quickened  his  pace  until  he 
was  close  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  heels;  and,  pointing  up 
at  a  house  they  were  passing,  said— 

'Wery  nice  pork-shop  that  'ere,  sir.' 

'Yes,  it  seems  so,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Celebrated  sassage  factory,'  said  Sam. 

'Is  it?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick" 

'Is  it!'  reiterated  Sam,  with  some  indignation;  'I 
should  rayther  think  it  was.  Why,  sir,  bless  your  in- 
nocent eyebrows,  that 's  where  the  mysterious  disap- 
pearance of  a  'spectable  tradesman  took  place  four 
years  ago.' 

'You  don't  mean  to  say  he  was  burked,  Sam?'  said 
Mr.  Pickwdck,  looking  hastily  round. 

'No,  I  don't  indeed,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'I  wish 
I  did;  far  worse  than  that.  He  was  the  master  o' 
that  'ere  shop,  sir,  and  the  inwenter  o'  the  patent-never- 
leavin'-off  sassage  steam  ingine,  as  'ud  swaller  up  a 
pavin'  stone  if  you  put  it  too  near,  and  grind  it  into 
sassages  as  easy  as  if  it  was  a  tender  young  babby. 


24  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Wery  proud  o'  that  machine  he  was,  as  it  was  nat'ral 
he  should  be,  and  he  'd  stand  down  in  the  cellar  a 
lookin'  at  it  wen  it  was  in  full  play,  'till  he  got  quite 
melancholy  with  joy.  A  wery  happy  man  he  'd  ha' 
been,  sir,  in  the  procession  o'  that  'ere  ingine  and  two 
more  lovely  hinfants  besides,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his 
wife,  who  was  a  most  ow-dacious  wixin.  She  was 
always  a  follerin'  him  about,  and  dinnin'  in  his  ears, 
'till  at  last  he  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer.  "I  '11  tell 
you  what  it  is,  my  dear,"  he  says  one  day;  "if  you 
persewere  in  this  here  sort  of  amusement,"  he  says, 
"I'm  blessed  if  I  don't  go  away  to  'Merriker;  and 
that 's  all  about  it."  "You  're  a  idle  willin,"  says  she, 
"and  I  wish  the  'Merrikins  joy  of  their  bargain." 
Arter  wich  she  keeps  on  abusin'  of  him  for  half  an 
hour,  and  then  runs  into  the  little  parlour  behind  the 
shop,  sets  to  a  screamin',  says  he  '11  be  the  death  on 
her,  and  falls  in  a  fit,  which  lasts  for  three  good  hours 
— one  o'  them  fits  wich  is  all  screamin'  and  kickin'. 
Well,  next  mornin',  the  husband  was  missin'.  He 
hadn't  taken  nothin'  from  the  till, — hadn't  even  put 
on  his  great-coat — so  it  was  quite  clear  he  warn't  gone 
to  'Merriker.  Didn't  come  back  next  day;  didn't 
come  back  next  week ;  Missis  had  bills  printed,  sayin' 
that,  if  he  'd  come  back,  he  should  be  forgiven  every- 
thin'  (which  was  very  liberal,  seein'  that  he  hadn't 
done  nothin'  at  all) ;  the  canals  was  dragged,  and 
for  two  months  artervards,  wenever  a  body  turned 
up,  it  was  carried,  as  a  reg'lar  thing,  straight  off  to 
the  sassage  shop.  Hows'ever,  none  on  'em  answered : 
so  they  gave  out  that  he  'd  run  avay,  and  she  kep' 
on  the  bis'ness.  One  Saturday  night,  a  little  thin 
old  gen'l'm'n  comes  into  the  shop  in  a  great  passion 
and  says,  "Are  you  the  missis  o'  this  here  shop?" 
"Yes,  I  am,"  says  she.  "Well,  ma'am,"  says  he, 
"then  I  've  just  looked  in  to  say  that  me  and  my 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  25 

family  ain't  a  goin'  to  be  choked  for  nothin';  and 
more  than  that,  ma'am,"  he  says,  "you  '11  allow  me  to 
observe,  that  as  you  don't  use  the  primest  parts  of  the 
meat  in  the  manafacter  o'  sassages,  I  think  you  'd  find 
beef  come  nearly  as  cheap  as  buttons."  "As  buttons, 
sir!"  says  she.  "Buttons,  ma'am,"  says  the  little  old 
gentleman,  unfolding  a  bit  of  paper,  and  showin' 
twenty  or  thirty  halves  o'  buttons.  "Nice  seasonin' 
for  sassages,  is  trousers'  buttons,  ma'am."  "They  're 
my  husband's  buttons!"  says  the  widder,  beginnin' 
to  faint.  "What!"  screams  the  little  old  gen'l'm'n, 
turnin'  wery  pale.  "I  see  it  all,"  says  the  widder; 
"in  a  fit  of  temporary  insanity  he  rashly  converted 
his-self  into  sassages !"  And  so  he  had,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Weller,  looking  steadily  into  Mr.  Pickwick's  horror- 
stricken  countenance,  'or  else  he  'd  been  draw'd  into 
the  ingine ;  but  however  that  might  ha'  been,  the  little 
old  gen'l'm'n,  who  had  been  remarkably  partial  to 
sassages  all  his  life,  rushed  out  o'  the  shop  in  a  wild 
state,  and  was  never  heerd  on  artervards!' 

The  relation  of  this  affecting  incident  of  private  life 
brought  master  and  man  to  Mr.  Perker's  chambers. 
Lowten,  holding  the  door  half  open,  was  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  rustily-clad,  miserable-looking  man,  in 
boots  without  toes  and  gloves  without  fingers.  There 
were  traces  of  privation  and  suffering — almost  of 
despair — in  his  lank  and  care-worn  countenance;  he 
felt  his  poverty,  for  he  shrunk  to  the  dark  side  of  the 
staircase  as  Mr.  Pickwick  approached. 

'It 's  very  unfortunate,'  said  the  stranger,  with  a 
sigh. 

'Very/  said  Lowten,  scribbling  his  name  on  the 
door-post  with  his  pen,  and  rubbing  it  out  again  with 
the  feather.  'Will  you  leave  a  message  for  him?' 

'When  do  you  think  he  '11  be  back?'  inquired  the 
stranger. 


26  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Quite  uncertain,'  replied  Lowten,  winking  at  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  the  stranger  cast  his  eyes  towards  the 
ground. 

'You  don't  think  it  would  be  of  any  use  my  wait- 
ing for  him?'  said  the  stranger,  looking  wistfully  into 
the  office. 

'Oh  no,  I  'm  sure  it  wouldn't,'  replied  the  clerk, 
moving  a  little  more  into  the  centre  of  the  door-way. 
'He  's  certain  not  to  be  back  this  week,  and  it 's  a 
chance  whether  he  will  be  next;  for  when  Perker  once 
gets  out  of  town,  he  's  never  in  a  hurry  to  come  back 
again.' 

'Out  of  town!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'dear  me,  how 
unfortunate  1' 

'Don't  go  away,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Lowten,  'I  've 
got  a  letter  for  you.'  The  stranger  seeming  to  hesi- 
tate, once  more  looked  towards  the  ground,  and  the 
clerk  winked  slily  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  if  to  intimate 
that  some  exquisite  piece  of  humour  was  going  for- 
ward, though  what  it  was  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  for 
the  life  of  him  divine. 

'Step  in,  Mr.  Pickwick/  said  Lowten.  'Well,  will 
you  leave  a  message,  Mr.  Watty,  or  will  you  call 
again  ?' 

'Ask  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to  leave  out  word  what 
has  been  done  in  my  business,'  said  the  man ;  'for  God's 
sake  don't  neglect  it,  Mr.  Lowten.' 

'No,  no ;  I  won't  forget  it,'  replied  the  clerk.  'Walk 
in,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Watty ;  it 's 
a  fine  day  for  walking,  isn't  it?'  Seeing  that  the 
stranger  still  lingered,  he  beckoned  Sam  Weller  to 
follow  his  master  in,  and  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

'There  never  was  such  a  pestering  bankrupt  as  that 
since  the  world  began,  I  do  believe!'  said  Lowten, 
throwing  down  his  pen  with  the  air  of  an  injured 
man.  'His  affairs  haven't  been  in  Chancery  quite 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  27 

four  years  yet,  and  I  'm  d — d  if  he  don't  come  worry, 
ing  here  twice  a  week.  Step  this  way,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Perker  is  in,  and  he'll  see  you,  I  know.  Devilish 
cold,'  he  added,  pettishly,  'standing  at  that  door,  wast- 
ing one's  time  with  such  seedy  vagabonds!'  Having 
very  vehemently  stirred  a  particularly  large  fire  with 
a  particularly  small  poker,  the  clerk  led  the  way  to 
his  principal's  private  room,  and  announced  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Ah,  my  dear  sir,'  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  bustling 
up  from  his  chair.  'Well,  my  dear  sir,  and  what 's  the 
news  about  your  matter,  eh?  Anything  more  about 
our  friends  in  Freeman's  Court  ?  They  've  not  been 
sleeping,  I  know  that.  Ah,  they  're  very  smart  fel- 
lows ;  very  smart,  indeed.' 

As  the  little  man  concluded,  he  took  an  emphatic 
pinch  of  snuff,  as  a  tribute  to  the  smartness  of  Messrs. 
Dodson  and  Fogg. 

'They  are  great  scoundrels,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Ay,  ay,'  said  the  little  man;  'that's  a  matter  of 
opinion,  you  know,  and  we  won't  dispute  about  terms ; 
because  of  course  you  can't  be  expected  to  view  these 
subjects  with  a  professional  eye.  Well,  we  Ve  done 
everything  that 's  necessary.  I  have  retained  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin.' 

'Is  he  a  good  man?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Good  man!'  replied  Perker;  'bless  your  heart  and 
soul,  my  dear  sir,  Serjeant  Snubbin  is  at  the  very  top 
of  his  profession.  Gets  treble  the  business  of  any 
man  in  court — engaged  in  every  case.  You  needn't 
mention  it  abroad;  but  we  say — we  of  the  profes- 
sion—that Serjeant  Snubbin  leads  the  court  by  the 
nose.' 

The  little  man  took  another  pinch  of  snuff  as  he 
made  this  communication,  and  nodded  mysteriously 
to  Mr.  Pickwick. 


28  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'They  have  subpoena'd  my  three  friends,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Ah!  of  course  they  would,'  replied  Perker.  'Im- 
portant witnesses;  saw  you  in  a  delicate  situation.' 

'But  she  fainted  of  her  own  accord,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'She  threw  herself  into  my  arms.' 

'Very  likely,  my  dear  sir,'  replied  Perker;  'very 
likely  and  very  natural.  Nothing  more  so,  my  dear 
sir,  nothing.  But  who  's  to  prove  it?' 

'They  have  subpoena'd  my  servant  too,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  quitting  the  other  point;  for  there  Mr. 
Perker's  question  had  somewhat  staggered  him. 

'Sam?'  said  Perker. 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

'Of  course,  my  dear  sir;  of  course.  I  knew  they 
would.  I  could  have  told  you  that,  a  month  ago. 
You  know,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  will  take  the  manage- 
ment of  your  affairs  into  your  own  hands  after  in- 
trusting them  to  your  solicitor,  you  must  also  take 
the  consequences.'  Here  Mr.  Perker  drew  himself 
up  with  conscious  dignity,  and  brushed  some  stray 
grains  of  snuff  from  his  shirt  frill. 

'And  wrhat  do  they  want  him  to  prove?'  asked  Mr. 
Pickwick,  after  two  or  three  minutes'  silence. 

'That  you  sent  him  up  to  the  plaintiff's  to  make 
some  offer  of  a  compromise,  I  suppose,'  replied 
Perker.  'It  don't  matter  much,  though ;  I  don't  think 
many  counsel  could  get  a  great  deal  out  of  him/ 

'I  don't  think  they  could,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  smil- 
ing, despite  his  vexation,  at  the  idea  of  Sam's  appear- 
ance as  a  witness.  'What  course  do  we  pursue?' 

'We  have  only  one  to  adopt,  my  dear  sir,'  replied 
Perker;  'cross-examine  the  witnesses;  trust  to  Snub- 
bin's  eloquence;  throw  dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  judge; 
throw  ourselves  on  the  jury.' 


;  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  29 

'And  suppose  the  verdict  is  against  me?'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

Mr.  Perker  smiled,  took  a  very  long  pinch  of  snuff, 
stirred  the  fire,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  remained 
expressively  silent. 

'You  mean  that  in  that  case  I  must  pay  the  dam- 
ages?' said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  watched  this  tele- 
graphic answer  with  considerable  sternness. 

Perker  gave  the  fire  another  very  unnecessary  poke, 
and  said,  'I  am  afraid  so.' 

'Then  I  beg  to  announce  to  you,  my  unalterable 
determination  to  pay  no  damages  whatever,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  most  emphatically.  'None,  Perker.  Not 
a  pound,  not  a  penny,  of  my  money,  shall  find  its  way 
into  the  pockets  of  Dodson  and  Fogg.  That  is  my 
deliberate  and  irrevocable  determination.'  Mr.  Pick- 
wick gave  a  heavy  blow  on  the  table  before  him,  in 
confirmation  of  the  irrevocability  of  his  intention. 

'Very  well,  my  dear  sir,  very  well,'  said  Perker. 
'You  know  best,  of  course.' 

'Of  course,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily.  'Where 
does  Serjeant  Snubbin  live?' 

'In  Lincoln's  Inn  Old  Square,'  replied  Perker. 

'I  should  like  to  see  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'See  Serjeant  Snubbin,  my  dear  sir!'  rejoined 
Perker,  in  utter  amazement.  'Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear 
sir,  impossible.  See  Serjeant  Snubbin!  Bless  you, 
my  dear  sir,  such  a  thing  was  never  heard  of,  without 
a  consultation  fee  being  previously  paid,  and  a  con- 
sultation fixed.  It  couldn't  be  done,  my  dear  sir; 
it  couldn't  be  done.' 

Mr.  Pickwick,  however,  had  made  up  his  mind  not 
jnly  that  it  could  be  done,  but  that  it  should  be  done; 
and  the  consequence  was,  that  within  ten  minutes 
after  he  had  received  the  assurance  that  the  thing  was 


30  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

impossible,  he  was  conducted  by  his  solicitor  into  the 
outer  office  of  the  great  Serjeant  Snubbin  himself. 

It  was  an  uncarpeted  room  of  tolerable  dimensions, 
with  a  large  writing-table  drawn  up  near  the  fire: 
the  baize  top  of  which  had  long  since  lost  all  claim, 
to  its  original  hue  of  green,  and  had  gradually  grown 
grey  with  dust  and  age,  except  where  all  traces  of 
its  natural  colour  were  obliterated  by  ink-stains. 
Upon  the  table  were  numerous  little  bundles  of  papers 
tied  with  red  tape ;  and  behind  it,  sat  an  elderly  clerks 
whose  sleek  appearance,  and  heavy  gold  watch-chain, 
presented  imposing  indications  of  the  extensive  and 
lucrative  practice  of  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin. 

'Is  the  Serjeant  in  his  room,  Mr.  Mallard?'  in- 
quired Perker,  offering  his  box  with  all  imaginable 
courtesy. 

'Yes  he  is,'  was  the  reply,  'but  he 's  very  busy. 
Look  here;  not  an  opinion  given  yet,  on  any  one  of 
these  cases ;  and  an  expedition  fee  paid  with  all  of  'em.' 
The  clerk  smiled  as  he  said  this,  and  inhaled  the  pinch 
of  snuff  with  a  zest  which  seemed  to  be  compounded 
of  a  fondness  for  snuff  and  a  relish  for  fees. 

'Something  like  practice  that,'  said  Perker. 

'Yes,'  said  the  barrister's  clerk,  producing  his  own 
box,  and  offering  it  with  the  greatest  cordiality ;  'and 
the  best  of  it  is,  that  as  nobody  alive  except  myself 
can  read  the  Serjeant's  writing,  they  are  obliged  to 
wait  for  the  opinions,  when  he  has  given  them,  till  J 
have  copied  'em,  ha — ha — ha!' 

'Which  makes  good  for  we  know  who,  besides  the 
Serjeant,  and  draws  a  little  more  out  of  the  clients, 
eh?'  said  Perker.  'Ha,  ha,  ha!'  At  this  the  Ser- 
jeant's clerk  laughed  again;  not  a  noisy  boisterous 
laugh,  but  a  silent,  internal  chuckle,  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick disliked  to  hear.  When  a  man  bleeds  inwardly, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  31 

it  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  himself ;  but  when  he  laughs 
inwardly,  it  bodes  no  good  to  other  people. 

'You  haven't  made  me  out  that  little  list  of  fees 
that  I  'm  in  your  debt,  have  you?'  said  Perker. 

(No,  I  have  not,'  replied  the  clerk. 

'I  wish  you  would,'  said  Perker.  'Let  me  have 
them,  and  I  '11  send  you  a  cheque.  But  I  suppose 
you  're  too  busy  pocketing  the  ready  money,  to  think 
of  the  debtors,  eh?  Ha,  ha,  ha!'  This  sally  seemed 
to  tickle  the  clerk  amazingly,  and  he  once  more  en- 
joyed a  little  quiet  laugh  to  himself. 

'But,  Mr.  Mallard,  my  dear  friend/  said  Perker, 
suddenly  recovering  his  gravity,  and  drawing  the 
great  man's  great  man  into  a  corner,  by  the  lapel 
of  his  coat;  'you  must  persuade  the  Serjeant  to  see 
me,  and  my  client  here.' 

'Come,  come,'  said  the  clerk,  'that 's  not  bad  either. 
See  the  Serjeant!  Come,  that's  too  absurd.'  Not- 
withstanding the  absurdity  of  the  proposal,  however, 
the  -clerk  allowed  himself  to  be  gently  drawn  beyond 
the  hearing  of  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  after  a  short  con- 
versation conducted  in  whispers,  walked  softly  down 
a  little  dark  passage,  and  disappeared  into  the  legal 
luminary's  sanctum:  whence  he  shortly  returned  on 
tiptoe,  and  informed  Mr.  Perker  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
that  the  Serjeant  had  been  prevailed  upon,  in  viola- 
tion of  all  established  rules  and  customs,  to  admit  them 
at  once. 

Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  was  a  lantern-faced,  sallow- 
complexioned  man,  of  about  five-and-forty,  or — as 
the  novels  say — he  might  be  fifty.  He  had  that  dull- 
looking  boiled  eye  which  is  often  to  be  seen  in  the 
heads  of  people  who  have  applied  themselves  during 
many  years  to  a  weary  and  laborious  course  of  study; 
and  which  would  have  been  sufficient,  without  the  ad- 


32  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ditional  eye-glass  which  dangled  from  a  broad  black 
riband  round  his  neck,  to  warn  a  stranger  that  he  was 
very  near-sighted.  His  hair  was  thin  and  weak, 
which  was  partly  attributable  to  his  having  never  de- 
voted much  time  to  its  arrangement,  and  partly  to 
his  having  worn  for  five-and-twenty  years  the  forensic 
wig  which  hung  on  a  block  beside  him.  The  marks 
of  hair-powder  on  his  coat-collar,  and  the  ill-washed 
and  worse  tied  white  neckerchief  round  his  throat, 
showed  that  he  had  not  found  leisure  since  he  left 
the  court  to  make  any  alteration  in  his  dress:  while 
the  slovenly  style  of  the  remainder  of  his  costume 
warranted  the  inference  that  his  personal  appearance 
would  not  have  been  very  much  improved  if  he  had. 
Books  of  practice,  heaps  of  papers,  and  opened  let- 
ters, were  scattered  over  the  table,  without  any  attempt 
at  order  or  arrangement;  the  furniture  of  the  room 
was  old  and  rickety;  the  doors  of  the  book-case  were 
rotting  in  their  hinges;  the  dust  flew  out  from  the 
carpet  in  little  clouds  at  every  step;  the  blinds  were 
yellow  with  age  and  dirt;  the  state  of  everything  in 
the  room  showed,  with  a  clearness  not  to  be  mistaken, 
that  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  wras  far  too  much  occupied 
with  his  professional  pursuits  to  take  any  great  heed 
or  regard  of  his  personal  comforts. 

The  Serjeant  was  writing  when  his  clients  entered; 
he  bowed  abstractedly  when  Mr.  Pickwick  was  intro- 
duced by  his  solicitor;  and  then,  motioning  them  to  a 
seat,  put  his  pen  carefully  in  the  inkstand,  nursed  his 
left  leg,  and  waited  to  be  spoken  to. 

'Mr.  Pickwick  is  the  defendant  in  Bardell  and  Pick- 
wick, Mr.  Snubbin,'  said  Perker. 

'I  am  retained  in  that,  am  I?'  said  the  Serjeant. 

'You  are,  sir,'  replied  Perker. 

The  Serjeant  nodded  his  head,  and  waited  for  some- 
thing else. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  33 

'Mr.  Pickwick  was  anxious  to  call  upon  you,  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin,'  said  Perker,  'to  state  to  you,  before 
you  entered  upon  the  case,  that  he  denies  there  being 
any  ground  or  pretence  whatever  for  the  action 
against  him;  and  that  unless  he  came  into  court  with 
clean  hands,  and  without  the  most  conscientious  con- 
viction that  he  was  right  in  resisting  the  plaintiff's 
demand,  he  would  not  be  there  at  all.  I  believe  I 
state  your  views  correctly;  do  I  not,  my  dear  sir?' 
said  the  little  man,  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Quite  so,'  replied  that  gentleman. 

Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  unfolded  his  glasses,  raised 
them  to  his  eyes;  and,  after  looking  at  Mr.  Pick- 
wick for  a  few  seconds  with  great  curiosity,  turned 
to  Mr.  Perker,  and  said,  smiling  slightly  as  he 
spoke — 

'Has  Mr.  Pickwick  a  strong  case?' 

The  attorney  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

'Do  you  purpose  calling  witnesses?' 

<Xo.' 

The  smile  on  the  Serjeant's  countenance  became 
more  defined;  he  rocked  his  leg  with  increased  vio- 
lence; and,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  easy-chair, 
coughed  dubiously. 

These  tokens  of  the  Serjeant's  presentiments  on  the 
subject,  slight  as  they  were,  were  not  lost  on  Mr. 
Pickwick.  He  settled  the  spectacles,  through  which 
he  had  attentively  regarded  such  demonstrations  of 
the  barrister's  feelings  as  he  had  permitted  himself 
to  exhibit,  more  firmly,  on  his  nose;  and  said  with 
great  energy,  and  in  utter  disregard  of  all  Mr. 
Perker's  admonitory  winkings  and  frownings— 

'My  wishing  to  wait  upon  you,  for  such  a  purpose 
as  this,  sir,  appears,  I  have  no  doubt,  to  a  gentleman 
who  sees  so  much  of  these  matters  as  you  must  neces- 
sarily do,  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance.' 


34  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  Serjeant  tried  to  look  gravely  at  the  fire,  but 
the  smile  came  back  again. 

'Gentlemen  of  your  profession,  sir,'  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  'see  the  worst  side  of  human  nature.  All 
its  disputes,  all  its  ill-will  and  bad  blood,  rise  up 
before  you.  You  know  from  your  experience  of 
juries  (I  mean  no  disparagement  to  you,  or  them) 
how  much  depends  upon  effect:  and  you  are  apt  to 
attribute  to  others,  a  desire  to  use,  for  purposes  of 
deception  and  self-interest,  the  very  instruments 
which  you,  in  pure  honesty  and  honour  of  purpose, 
and  with  a  laudable  desire  to  do  your  utmost  for  your 
client,  know  the  temper  and  worth  of  so  well,  from 
constantly  employing  them  yourselves.  I  really  be- 
lieve that  to  this  circumstance  may  be  attributed  the 
vulgar  but  very  general  notion  of  your  being,  as  a 
body,  suspicious,  distrustful,  and  over-cautious.  Con- 
scious as  I  am,  sir,  of  the  disadvantage  of  making 
such  a  declaration  to  you,  under  such  circumstances, 
I  have  come  here,  because  I  wish  you  distinctly  to 
understand,  as  my  friend  Mr.  Perker  has  said,  that 
I  am  innocent  of  the  falsehood  laid  to  my  charge; 
and  although  I  am  very  well  aware  of  the  inestimable 
value  of  your  assistance,  sir,  I  must  beg  to  add,  that 
unless  you  sincerely  believe  this,  I  would  rather  be 
deprived  of  the  aid  of  your  talents  than  have  the 
advantage  of  them.' 

Long  before  the  close  of  this  address,  which  we  are 
bound  to  say  was  of  a  very  prosy  character  for  Mr. 
Pickwick,  the  Serjeant  had  relapsed  into  a  state  of 
abstraction.  After  some  minutes,  however,  during 
which  he  had  reassumed  his  pen,  he  appeared  to  be 
again  aware  of  the  presence  of  his  clients;  raising 
his  head  from  the  paper,  he  said,  rather  snappishly— 

'Who  is  with  me  in  this  case?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  35 

'Mr.  Phunky,  Serjeant  Snubbin,'  replied  the  attor- 
ney. 

'Phunky,  Phunky,'  said  the  Serjeant,  'I  never  heard 
the  name  before.  He  must  be  a  very  young  man.' 

'Yes,  he  is  a  very  young  man,'  replied  the  attorney. 
'He  was  only  called  the  other  day.  Let  me  see — he 
has  not  been  at  the  Bar  eight  years  yet.' 

'All,  I  thought  not,'  said  the  Serjeant,  in  that  sort 
of  pitying  tone  in  which  ordinary  folks  would  speak 
of  a  very  helpless  little  child.  'Mr.  Mallard,  send 
round  to  Mr.  —  -  Mr.  — 

'Phunky's — Holborn  Court,  Gray's  Inn,'  inter- 
posed Perker.  ( Holborn  Court,  by  the  bye,  is  South 
Square  now.)  'Mr.  Phunky,  and  say  I  should  be 
glad  if  he  'd  step  here,  a  moment.' 

Mr.  Mallard  departed  to  execute  his  commission; 
and  Serjeant  Snubbin  relapsed  into  abstraction  until 
Mr.  Phunky  himself  was  introduced. 

Although  an  infant  barrister,  he  was  a  full-grown 
man.  He  had  a  very  nervous  manner,  and  a  painful 
hesitation  in  his  speech ;  it  did  not  appear  to  be  a  nat- 
ural defect,  but  seemed  rather  the  result  of  timidity, 
arising  from  the  consciousness  of  being  'kept  down' 
by  want  of  means,  or  interest,  or  connexion,  or  impu- 
dence, as  the  case  might  be.  He  was  overawed  by 
the  Serjeant,  and  profoundly  courteous  to  the  attor- 
ney. 

'I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before, 
Mr.  Phunky,'  said  Serjeant  Snubbin,  with  haughty 
condescension. 

Mr.  Phunky  bowed.  He  had  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  the  Serjeant,  and  of  envying  him  too,  with  all 
a  poor  man's  envy,  for  eight  years  and  a  quarter. 

'You  are  with  me  in  this  case,  I  understand?'  said 
the  Serjeant. 


36  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

If  Mr.  Phunky  had  been  a  rich  man,  he  would  have 
instantly  sent  for  his  clerk  to  remind  him;  if  he  had 
been  a  wise  one,  he  would  have  applied  his  fore-finger 
to  his  forehead,  and  endeavoured  to  recollect,  whether, 
in  the  multiplicity  of  his  engagements  he  had  under- 
taken this  one,  or  not;  but  as  he  was  neither  rich  nor 
wise  (in  this  sense  at  all  events)  he  turned  red,  and 
bowed. 

'Have  you  read  the  papers,  Mr.  Phunky  ?'  inquired 
the  Serjeant. 

Here  again,  Mr.  Phunky  should  have  professed  to 
have  forgotten  all  about  the  merits  of  the  case ;  but  as 
he  had  read  such  papers  as  had  been  laid  before  him 
in  the  course  of  the  action,  and  had  thought  of  noth- 
ing else,  waking  or  sleeping,  throughout  the  two 
months  during  which  he  had  been  retained  as  Mr. 
Serjeant  Snubbin's  junior,  he  turned  a  deeper  red, 
and  bowed  again. 

'This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  the  Serjeant,  waving 
his  pen  in  the  direction  in  which  that  gentleman  was 
standing. 

Mr.  Phunky  bowed  to  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  rever- 
ence which  a  first  client  must  ever  awaken ;  and  again 
inclined  his  head  towards  his  leader. 

'Perhaps  you  will  take  Mr.  Pickwick  away,'  said 
the  Serjeant,  'and — and — and — hear  anything  Mr. 
Pickwick  may  wish  to  communicate.  We  shall  have 
a  consultation,  of  course.'  With  this  hint  that  he  had 
been  interrupted  quite  long  enough,  Mr.  Serjeant 
S nubbin,  who  had  been  gradually  growing  more  and 
more  abstracted,  applied  his  glass  to  his  eyes  for  an 
instant,  bowed  slightly  round,  and  was  once  more 
deeply  immersed  in  the  case  before  him:  which  arose 
out  of  an  interminable  lawsuit,  originating  in  the  act 
of  an  individual,  deceased  a  century  or  so  ago,  who 
had  stopped  up  a  pathway  leading  from  some  place 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  37 

which  nobody  ever  came  from,  to  some  other  place 
which  nobody  ever  went  to. 

Mr.  Phunky  would  not  hear  of  passing  through 
any  door  until  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  solicitor  had 
passed  through  before  him,  so  it  was  some  time  before 
they  got  into  the  Square;  and  when  they  did  reach 
it,  they  walked  up  and  down,  and  held  a  long  con- 
ference, the  result  of  which  was,  that  it  was  a  very 
difficult  matter  to  say  how  the  verdict  would  go ;  that 
nobody  could  presume  to  calculate  on  the  issue  of  an 
action;  that  it  was  very  lucky  they  had  prevented  the 
other  party  from  getting  Serjeant  Snubbin;  and 
other  topics  of  doubt  and  consolation,  common  in  such 
a  position  of  affairs. 

Mr.  Weller  was  then  roused  by  his  master  from  a 
sweet  sleep  of  an  hour's  duration;  and,  bidding  adieu 
to  Lowten,  they  returned  to  the  City. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

DESCRIBES,  FAR  MORE  FULLY  THAN  THE  COURT  NEWS- 
MAN EVER  DID,  A  BACHELOR'S  PARTY,  GIVEN  BY  MR. 

BOB   SAWYER  AT   HIS  LODGINGS   IN   THE   BOROUGH 

THERE  is  a  repose  about  Lant  Street,  in  the  Borough, 
which  sheds  a  gentle  melancholy  upon  the  soul. 
There  are  always  a  good  many  houses  to  let  in  the 
street :  it  is  a  by-street  too,  and  its  dulness  is  soothing. 
A  house  in  Lant  Street  would  not  come  within  the 
denomination  of  a  first-rate  residence,  in  the  strict 
acceptation  of  the  term;  but  it  is  a  most  desirable  spot 
nevertheless.  If  a  man  wished  to  abstract  himself 
from  the  world — to  remove  himself  from  within  the 
reach  of  temptation— to  place  himself  beyond  the 


38  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

possibility  of  any  inducement  to  look  out  of  the  win- 
dow— he  should  by  all  means  go  to  Lant  Street. 

In  this  happy  retreat  are  colonised  a  few  clear- 
starchers,  a  sprinkling  of  journeymen  bookbinders, 
one  or  two  prison  agents  for  the  Insolvent  Court,  sev- 
eral small  housekeepers  who  are  employed  in  the 
Docks,  a  handful  of  mantua-makers,  and  a  seasoning 
of  jobbing  tailors.  The  majority  of  the  inhabitants 
either  direct  their  energies  to  the  letting  of  furnished 
apartments,  or  devote  themselves  to  the  healthful  and 
invigorating  pursuit  of  mangling.  The  chief  fea- 
tures in  the  still  life  of  the  street  are  green  shutters, 
lodging-bills,  brass  door-plates,  and  bell-handles;  the 
principal  specimens  of  animated  nature,  the  pot-boy, 
the  muffin  youth,  and  the  baked-potato  man.  The 
population  is  migratory,  usually  disappearing  on  the 
verge  of  quarter-day,  and  generally  by  night.  His 
Majesty's  revenues  are  seldom  collected  in  this  happy 
valley ;  the  rents  are  dubious ;  and  the  water  communi- 
cation is  very  frequently  cut  off. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  embellished  one  side  of  the  fire,  in 
his  first-floor  front,  early  on  the  evening  for  which  he 
had  invited  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  the 
other.  The  preparations  for  the  reception  of  visitors 
appeared  to  be  completed.  The  umbrellas  in  the 
passage  had  been  heaped  into  the  little  corner  outside 
the  back-parlour  door;  the  bonnet  and  shawl  of  the 
landlady's  servant  had  been  removed  from  the  banis- 
ters; there  were  not  more  than  two  pairs  of  pattens 
on  the  street-door  mat,  and  a  kitchen  candle,  with  a 
very  long  snuff,  burnt  cheerfully  on  the  ledge  of  the 
staircase  window.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  'himself  pur- 
chased the  spirits  at  a  wine  vaults  in  High  Street,  and 
had  returned  home  preceding  the  bearer  thereof,  to 
preclude  the  possibility  of  their  delivery  at  the  wrong 
house.  The  punch  was  ready-made  in  a  red  pan  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  39 

the  bed-room;  a  little  table,  covered  with  a  green  baize 
cloth,  had  been  borrowed  from  the  parlour,  to  play  at 
cards  on;  and  the  glasses  of  the  establishment,  to- 
gether with  those  which  had  been  borrowed  for  the 
occasion  from  the  public-house,  were  all  drawn  up  in 
a  tray,  which  was  deposited  on  the  landing  outside 
the  door. 

Notwithstanding  the  highly  satisfactory  nature  of 
all  these  arrangements,  there  was  a  cloud  on  the  coun- 
tenance of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  as  he  sat  by  the  fire-side. 
There  was  a  sympathising  expression,  too,  in  the  fea- 
tures of  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  as  he  gazed  intently  on  the 
coals;  and  a  tone  of  melancholy  in  his  voice,  as  he 
said,  after  a  long  silence — 

'Well,  it  is  unlucky  she  should  have  taken  it  in  her 
head  to  turn  sour,  just  on  this  occasion.  She  might 
at  least  have  wraited  till  to-morrow.' 

'That 's  her  malevolence,  that 's  her  malevolence,' 
returned  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  vehemently.  'She  says 
that  if  I  can  afford  to  give  a  party  I  ought  to  be 
able  to  pay  her  confounded  "little  bill." 

'How  long  has  it  been  running?'  inquired  Mr.  Ben 
Allen.  A  bill,  by  the  bye,  is  the  most  extraordinary 
locomotive  engine  that  the  genius  of  man  ever  pro- 
duced. It  would  keep  on  running  during  the  longest 
lifetime,  without  ever  once  stopping  of  its  own  accord. 

'Only  a  quarter,  and  a  month  or  so,'  replied  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer. 

Ben  Allen  coughed  hopelessly,  and  directed  a 
searching  look  between  the  two  top  bars  of  the  stove. 

'It  '11  be  a  deuced  unpleasant  thing  if  she  takes  it 
into  her  head  to  let  out,  when  those  fellows  are  here, 
won't  it?'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen  at  length. 

'Horrible,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  'horrible.' 

A  low  tap  was  heard  at  the  room  door.  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  looked  expressively  at  his  friend,  and  bade 


40 

the  tapper  come  in;  whereupon  a  dirty  slipshod  girl 
in  black  cotton  stockings,  who  might  have  passed  for 
the  neglected  daughter  of  a  superannuated  dustman 
in  very  reduced  circumstances,  thrust  in  her  head,  and 
said — 

'Please,  Mister  Sawyer,  Missis  Raddle  wants  to 
speak  to  you' 

Before  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  could  return  any  answer, 
the  girl  suddenly  disappeared  with  a  jerk,  as  if  some- 
body had  given  her  a  violent  pull  behind;  this  mys- 
terious exit  was  no  sooner  accomplished,  than  there 
was  another  tap  at  the  door — a  smart,  pointed  tap, 
which  seemed  to  say,  'Here  I  am,  and  in  I  'm  com- 
ing.' 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  glanced  at  his  friend  with  a  look 
of  abject  apprehension,  and  once  more  cried  'Come 
in/ 

The  permission  was  not  at  all  necessary,  for,  before 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  uttered  the  words,  a  little  fierce 
woman  bounced  into  the  room,  all  in  a  tremble  with 
passion,  and  pale  with  rage. 

'Now,  Mr.  Sawyer,'  said  the  little  fierce  woman, 
trying  to  appear  very  calm,  'if  you  '11  have  the  kind- 
ness to  settle  that  little  bill  of  mine  I  '11  thank  you, 
because  I  Ve  got  my  rent  to  pay  this  afternoon,  and 
my  landlord  's  waiting  below  now.'  Here  the  little 
woman  rubbed  her  hands,  and  looked  steadily  over 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  head,  at  the  wall  behind  him. 

'I  am  very  sorry  to  put  you  to  any  inconvenience, 
Mrs.  Raddle,'  said  Bob  Sawyer,  deferentially,  'but— 

'Oh,  it  isn't  any  inconvenience,'  replied  the  little 
woman,  with  a  shrill  titter.  'I  didn't  want  it  partic- 
ular before  to-day;  leastways,  as  it  has  to  go  to  my 
landlord  directly,  it  was  as  well  for  you  to  keep  it  as 
me.  You  promised  me  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Sawyer, 
and  every  gentleman  as  has  ever  lived  here,  has  kept 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  41 

his  word,  sir,  as  of  course  anybody  as  calls  himself 
a  gentleman,  does.'  Mrs.  Raddle  tossed  her  head, 
bit  her  lips,  rubbed  her  hands  harder,  and  looked  at 
the  wall  more  steadily  than  ever.  It  was  plain  to 
see,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  remarked  in  a  style  of  eastern 
allegory  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  that  she  was  'get- 
ting the  steam  up.' 

'I  am  very  sorry,  Mrs.  Raddle,'  said  Bob  Sawyer 
with  all  imaginable  humility,  'but  the  fact  is,  that  I 
have  been  disappointed  in  the  City  to-day.' — Extraor- 
dinary place  that  City.  An  astonishing  number  of 
men  always  are  getting  disappointed  there. 

'Well,  Mr.  Sawyer,'  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  planting 
herself  firmly  on  a  purple  cauliflower  in  the  Kidder- 
minster carpet,  'and  what's  that  to  me,  sir?' 

'I — I — have  no  doubt,  Mrs.  Raddle,'  said  Bob  Saw- 
yer, blinking  this  last  question,  'that  before  the  middle 
of  next  week  we  shall  be  able  to  set  ourselves  quite 
square,  and  go  on,  on  a  better  system,  afterwards.' 

This  was  all  Mrs.  Raddle  wanted.  She  had  bustled 
up  to  the  apartment  of  the  unlucky  Bob  Sawyer,  so 
bent  upon  going  into  a  passion,  that,  in  all  proba- 
bility, payment  would  have  rather  disappointed  her 
than  otherwise.  She  was  in  excellent  order  for  a 
little  relaxation  of  the  kind:  having  just  exchanged 
a  few  introductory  compliments  with  Mr.  R.  in  the 
front  kitchen. 

'Do  you  suppose,  Mr.  Sawyer/  said  Mrs.  Raddle, 
elevating  her  voice  for  the  information  of  the  neigh- 
bours, 'do  you  suppose  that  I  'm  a  going  day  after 
day  to  let  a  f  ellar  occupy  my  lodgings  as  never  thinks 
of  paying  his  rent,  nor  even  the  very  money  laid  out 
for  the  fresh  butter  and  lump  sugar  that 's  bought 
for  his  breakfast,  and  the  very  milk  that 's  took  in, 
at  the  street  door?  Do  you  suppose  a  hard-working 
and  industrious  woman  as  has  lived  in  this  street  for 


42  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

twenty  year  (ten  year  over  the  way,  and  nine  yeai 
and  three  quarter  in  this  very  house)  has  nothing 
else  to  do  but  to  work  herself  to  death  after  a  parcel 
of  lazy  idle  f  ellars  that  are  always  smoking  and  drink- 
ing, and  lounging,  when  they  ought  to  be  glad  to  turn 
their  hands  to  anything  that  would  help  'em  to  pay 
their  bills?  Do  you — ' 

'My  good  soul/  interposed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen, 
soothingly. 

'Have  the  goodness  to  keep  your  observashuns  to 
yourself,  sir,  I  beg/  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  suddenly 
arresting  the  rapid  torrent  of  her  speech,  and  address- 
ing the  third  party  with  impressive  slowness  and 
solemnity.  'I  am  not  aweer,  sir,  that  you  have  any 
right  to  address  your  conversation  to  me.  I  don't 
think  I  let  these  apartments  to  you,  sir/ 

'No,  you  certainly  did  not/  said  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen. 

'Very  good,  sir/  responded  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  lofty 
politeness.  'Then  p'raps,  sir,  you  '11  confine  yourself 
to  breaking  the  arms  and  legs  of  the  poor  people 
in  the  hospitals,  and  keep  yourself  to  yourself,  sir, 
or  there  may  be  some  persons  here  as  will  make  you, 
sir.' 

'But  you  are  such  an  unreasonable  woman/  remon- 
strated Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'I  beg  your  parding,  young  man/  said  Mrs.  Raddle, 
in  a  cold  perspiration  of  anger.  'But  will  you  have 
the  goodness  just  to  call  me  that  again,  sir?' 

'I  didn't  make  use  of  the  word  in  any  invidious 
sense,  ma'am/  replied  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  growing 
somewhat  uneasy  on  his  own  account. 

'I  beg  your  parding,  young  man/  demanded  Mrs. 
Raddle  in  a  louder  and  more  imperative  tone.  'But 
who  do  you  call  a  woman?  Did  you  make  that  re- 
mark to  me,  sir?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  43 

'Why,  bless  my  heart!'  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'Did  you  apply  that  name  to  me,  I  ask  of  you,  sir?' 
interrupted  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  intense  fierceness, 
throwing  the  door  wide  open. 

'Why,  of  course  I  did/  replied  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen. 

'Yes,  of  course  you  did,'  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  backing 
gradually  to  the  door,  and  raising  her  voice  to  its 
loudest  pitch,  for  the  special  behoof  of  Mr.  Raddle  in 
the  kitchen.  'Yes,  of  course  you  did!  And  every- 
body knows  that  they  may  safely  insult  me  in  my 
own  'ouse  while  my  husband  sits  sleeping  downstairs, 
and  taking  no  more  notice  than  if  I  was  a  dog  in  the 
streets.  He  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself  (here 
Mrs.  Raddle  sobbed)  to  allow  his  wife  to  be  treated 
in  this  way  by  a  parcel  of  young  cutters  and  carvers 
of  live  people's  bodies,  that  disgraces  the  lodgings 
(another  sob),  and  leaving  her  exposed  to  all  man- 
ner of  abuse;  a  base,  faint-hearted,  timorous  wretch, 
that 's  afraid  to  come  upstairs,  and  face  the  ruffinly 
creature — that 's  afraid — that 's  afraid  to  come !' 
Mrs.  Raddle  paused  to  listen  whether  the  repetition 
of  the  taunt  had  roused  her  better  half;  and,  finding 
that  it  had  not  been  successful,  proceeded  to  descend 
the  stairs  with  sobs  innumerable:  when  there  came  a 
loud  double  knock  at  the  street  door:  whereupon  she 
burst  into  an  hysterical  fit  of  weeping,  accompanied 
with  dismal  moans,  which  was  prolonged  until  the 
knock  had  been  repeated  six  times,  when,  in  an  uncon- 
trollable burst  of  mental  agony,  she  threw  down  all 
the  umbrellas,  and  disappeared  into  the  back  parlour, 
closing  the  door  after  her  with  an  awful  crash. 

'Does  Mr.  Sawyer  live  here?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
when  the  door  was  opened. 

'Yes/  said  the  girl,  'first  floor.  It's  the  door 
straight  afore  you,  when  you  gets  to  the  top  of  the 


44  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

stairs/  Having  given  this  instruction,  the  handmaid, 
who  had  been  brought  up  among  the  aboriginal  in- 
habitants of  Southwark,  disappeared,  with  the  candle 
in  her  hand,  down  the  kitchen  stairs :  perfectly  satis- 
fied that  she  had  done  everything  that  could  possibly 
be  required  of  her  under  the  circumstances. 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  entered  last,  secured  the  street 
door,  after  several  ineffectual  efforts,  by  putting  up 
the  chain;  and  the  friends  stumbled  upstairs,  where 
they  were  received  by  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had 
been  afraid  to  go  down,  lest  he  should  be  waylaid  by 
Mrs.  Raddle. 

'How  are  you?'  said  the  discomfited  student. 
'Glad  to  see  you, — take  care  of  the  glasses.'  This 
caution  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  put 
his  hat  in  the  tray. 

'Dear  me,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *I  beg  your  pardon.' 

'Don't  mention  it,  don't  mention  it,'  said  Bob  Saw- 
yer. 'I  'm  rather  confined  for  room  here,  but  you 
must  put  up  with  all  that,  when  you  come  to  see  a 
young  bachelor.  Walk  in.  You  've  seen  this  gentle- 
man before,  I  think?'  Mr.  Pickwick  shook  hands  with 
Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  his  friends  followed  his 
example.  They  had  scarcely  taken  their  seats  when 
there  was  another  double  knock. 

'I  hope  that 's  Jack  Hopkins !'  said  Mr.  Bob  Saw- 
yer. 'Hush.  Yes,  it  is.  Come  up,  Jack;  come  up.' 

A  heavy  footstep  was  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and 
Jack  Hopkins  presented  himself.  He  wore  a  black 
velvet  waistcoat,  with  thunder-and-lightning  buttons; 
and  a  blue  striped  shirt,  with  a  white  false  collar. 

'You  're  late,  Jack?'  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'Been  detained  at  Bartholomew's,'  replied  Hopkins. 

'Anything  new?' 

'No,  nothing  particular.  Rather  a  good  accidenf 
brought  into  the  casualty  ward.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  45 

'What  was  that,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Only  a  man  fallen  out  of  a  four  pair  of  stairs' 
window ; — but  it 's  a  very  fair  case — very  fair  case 
indeed.' 

'Do  you  mean  that  the  patient  is  in  a  fair  way 
to  recover?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,'  replied  Hopkins,  carelessly.  'No,  I  should 
rather  say  he  wouldn't.  There  must  be  a  splendid 
operation  though,  to-morrow — magnificent  sight  if 
Slasher  does  it.' 

'You  consider  Mr.  Slasher  a  good  operator?'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Best  alive,'  replied  Hopkins.  'Took  a  boy's  leg 
out  of  the  socket  last  week — boy  ate  five  apples  and 
a  ginger-bread  cake — exactly  two  minutes  after  it  was 
all  over,  boy  said  he  wouldn't  lie  there  to  be  made 
game  of,  and  he  'd  tell  his  mother  if  they  didn't 
begin.' 

'Dear  me !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  astonished. 

'Pooh !  That 's  nothing,  that  ain't,'  said  Jack  Hop- 
kins. 'Is  it,  Bob?' 

'Nothing  at  all,'  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'By  the  bye,  Bob,'  said  Hopkins,  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  glance  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  attentive  face, 
'we  had  a  curious  accident  last  night.  A  child  was 
brought  in,  who  had  swallowed  a  necklace.' 

'Swallowed  what,  sir?'  interrupted  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'A  necklace,'  replied  Jack  Hopkins.  'Not  all  at 
once,  you  know,  that  would  be  too  much — you  couldn't 
swallow  that,  if  the  child  did— eh,  Mr.  Pickwick,  ha! 
ha!'  Mr.  Hopkins  appeared  highly  gratified  with  his 
own  pleasantry;  and  continued.  'No,  the  way  was 
this.  Child's  parents  were  poor  people  who  lived  in 
a  court.  Child's  eldest  sister  bought  a  necklace;  com- 
mon necklace,  made  of  large  black  wooden  beads. 
Child,  being  fond  of  toys,  cribbed  the  necklace,  hid  it. 


46  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

played  with  it,  cut  the  string,  and  swallowed  a  bead. 
Child  thought  it  capital  fun,  went  back  next  day,  and 
swallowed  another  bead.' 

'Bless  my  heart,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'what  a  dread- 
ful thing!  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Go  on.' 

'Next  day,  child  swallowed  two  beads ;  the  day  after 
that,  he  treated  himself  to  three,  and  so  on,  till  in  a 
week's  time  he  had  got  through  the  necklace — five- 
and-twenty  beads  in  all.  The  sister,  who  was  an  in- 
dustrious girl,  and  seldom  treated  herself  to  a  bit  of 
finery,  cried  her  eyes  out,  at  the  loss  of  the  necklace ; 
looked  high  and  low  for  it;  but,  I  needn't  say,  didn't 
find  it.  A  few  days  afterwards,  the  family  were  at 
dinner — baked  shoulder  of  mutton,  and  potatoes  under 
it — the  child,  who  wasn't  hungry,  was  playing  about 
the  room,  when  suddenly  there  was  heard  a  devil  of  a 
noise,  like  a  small  hailstorm.  "Don't  do  that,  my 
boy,"  said  the  father.  "I  ain't  a  doin'  nothing,"  said 
the  child.  "Well,  don't  do  it  again,"  said  the  father. 
There  was  a  short  silence,  and  then  the  noise  began 
again,  worse  than  ever.  "If  you  don't  mind  what  I 
say,  my  boy,"  said  the  father,  "you  '11  find  yourself  in 
bed,  in  something  less  than  a  pig's  whisper."  He 
gave  the  child  a  shake  to  make  him  obedient,  and  such 
a  rattling  ensued  as  nobody  ever  heard  before. 
"Why,  damme,  it's  in  the  child!"  said  the  father, 
"he's  got  the  croup  in  the  wrong  place!"  "No,  I 
haven't,  father,"  said  the  child,  beginning  to  cry,  "it 's 
the  necklace;  I  swallowed  it,  father."- -The  father 
caught  the  child  up,  and  ran  with  him  to  the  hospital : 
the  beads  in  the  boy's  stomach  rattling  all  the  way 
with  the  jolting;  and  the  people  looking  up  in  the 
air,  and  down  in  the  cellars,  to  see  where  the  unusual 
sound  came  from.  'He  's  in  the  hospital  now,'  said 
Jack  Hopkins,  'and  he  makes  such  a  devil  of  a  noise 
when  he  walks  about,  that  they  're  obliged  to  muffle 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  47 

him  in  a  watchman's  coat,  for  fear  he  should  wake 
the  patients!' 

'That 's  the  most  extraordinary  case  I  ever  heard 
of,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  emphatic  blow  on  the 
table. 

'Oh,  that 's  nothing,'  said  Jack  Hopkins ;  'is  it, 
Bob?' 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Very  singular  things  occur  in  our  profession,  I  can 
assure  you,  sir,'  said  Hopkins. 

'So  I  should  be  disposed  to  imagine,'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

Another  knock  at  the  door,  announced  a  large- 
headed  young  man  in  a  black  wig,  who  brought  with 
him  a  scorbutic  youth  in  a  long  stock.  The  next 
comer  was  a  gentleman  in  a  shirt  emblazoned  with 
pink  anchors,  who  was  closely  followed  by  a  pale 
youth  with  a  plated  watch-guard.  The  arrival  of  a 
prim  personage  in  clean  linen  and  cloth  boots  ren- 
dered the  party  complete.  The  little  table  with  the 
green  baize  cover  was  wheeled  out;  the  first  instal- 
ment of  punch  was  brought  in,  in  a  white  jug;  and 
the  succeeding  three  hours  were  devoted  to  vingt-et-un 
at  sixpence  a  dozen,  which  was  only  once  interrupted 
by  a  slight  dispute  between  the  scorbutic  youth  and 
the  gentleman  with  the  pink  anchors;  in  the  course 
of  which,  the  scorbutic  youth  intimated  a  burning 
desire  to  pull  the  nose  of  the  gentleman  with  the 
emblems  of  hope:  in  reply  to  which,  that  individual 
expressed  his  decided  unwillingness  to  accept  of  any 
'sauce'  on  gratuitous  terms,  either  from  the  irascible 
young  gentleman  with  the  scorbutic  countenance,  or 
any  other  person  who  was  ornamented  with  a  head. 

When  the  last  'natural'  had  been  declared,  and  the 
profit  and  loss  account  of  fish  and  sixpences  adjusted, 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  rang 


48  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

for  supper,  and  the  visitors  squeezed  themselves  into 
corners  while  it  was  getting  ready. 

It  was  not  so  easily  got  ready  as  some  people  may 
imagine.  First  of  all,  it  was  necessary  to  awaken  the 
girl,  who  had  fallen  asleep  with  her  face  on  the 
kitchen  table;  this  took  a  little  time,  and,  even  when 
she  did  answer  the  bell,  another  quarter  of  an  hour 
was  consumed  in  fruitless  endeavours  to  impart  to  her 
a  faint  and  distant  glimmering  of  reason.  The  man 
to  whom  the  order  for  the  oysters  had  been  sent,  had 
not  been  told  to  open  them ;  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing 
to  open  an  oyster  with  a  limp  knife  or  a  two-pronged 
fork;  and  very  little  was  done  in  this  way.  Very 
little  of  the  beef  was  done  either;  and  the  ham 
(which  was  also  from  the  German-sausage  shop 
round  the  corner)  was  in  a  similar  predicament. 
However,  there  was  plenty  of  porter  in  a  tin  can; 
and  the  cheese  went  a  great  way,  for  it  was  very 
strong.  So  upon  the  whole,  perhaps,  the  supper  was 
quite  as  good  as  such  matters  usually  are. 

After  supper,  another  jug  of  punch  was  put  upon 
the  table,  together  with  a  paper  of  cigars,  and  a 
couple  of  bottles  of  spirits.  Then,  there  was  an 
awful  pause ;  and  this  awful  pause  was  occasioned  by 
a  very  common  occurrence  in  this  sort  of  places,  but 
a  very  embarrassing  one  notwithstanding. 

The  fact  is,  the  girl  was  washing  the  glasses.  The 
establishment  boasted  four;  we  do  not  record  the 
circumstance  as  at  all  derogatory  to  Mrs.  Raddle, 
for  there  never  was  a  lodging-house  yet,  that  was  not 
short  of  glasses.  The  landlady's  glasses  were  little 
thin  blown  glass  tumblers,  and  those  which  had  been 
borrowed  from  the  public-house  were  great,  drop- 
sical, bloated  articles,  each  supported  on  a  huge  gouty 
leg.  This  would  have  been  in  itself  sufficient  to  have 
possessed  the  company  with  the  real  state  of  affairs; 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  49 

but  the  young  woman  of  all  work  had  prevented 
the  possibility  of  any  misconception  arising  in  the 
mind  of  any  gentleman  upon  the  subject,  by 
forcibly  dragging  every  man's  glass  away,  long  be- 
fore he  had  finished  his  beer,  and  audibly  stating, 
despite  the  winks  and  interruptions  of  Mr.  Bob  Saw- 
yer, that  it  was  to  be  conveyed  downstairs,  and  washed 
forthwith. 

It  is  a  very  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good. 
The  prim  man  in  the  cloth  boots,  who  had  been  un- 
successfully attempting  to  make  a  joke  during  the 
whole  time  the  round  game  lasted,  saw  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  availed  himself  of  it.  The  instant  the 
glasses  disappeared,  he  commenced  a  long  story  about 
a  great  public  character,  whose  name  he  had  forgot- 
ten, making  a  particularly  happy  reply  to  another 
eminent  and  illustrious  individual  whom  he  had  never 
been  able  to  identify.  He  enlarged  at  some  length 
and  with  great  minuteness  upon  divers  collateral  cir- 
cumstances, distantly  connected  with  the  anecdote  in 
hand,  but  for  the  life  of  him  he  couldn't  recollect 
at  that  precise  moment  what  the  anecdote  was,  al- 
though he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  telling  the  story 
with  great  applause  for  the  last  ten  years. 

'Dear  me,'  said  the  prim  man  in  the  cloth  boots, 
'it  is  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance.' 

'I  am  sorry  you  have  forgotten  it,'  said  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  glancing  eagerly  at  the  door,  as  he  thought 
he  heard  the  noise  of  glasses  jingling;  Very  sorry.' 

'So  am  I,'  responded  the  prim  man,  'because  I  know 
it  would  have  afforded  so  much  amusement.  Never 
mind;  I  dare  say  I  shall  manage  to  recollect  it,  in 
the  course  of  half  an  hour  or  so.' 

The  prim  man  arrived  at  this  point,  just  as  the 
glasses  came  back,  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had 
been  absorbed  in  attention  during  the  whole  time, 


50  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

said  he  should  very  much  like  to  hear  the  end  of  it, 
for,  so  far  as  it  went,  it  was,  without  exception,  the 
very  best  story  he  had  ever  heard. 

The  sight  of  the  tumblers  restored  Bob  Sawyer 
to  a  degree  of  equanimity  which  he  had  not  pos- 
sessed since  his  interview  with  his  landlady.  His 
face  brightened  up,  and  he  began  to  feel  quite  con- 
vivial. 

'Now,  Betsy/  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  great 
suavity,  and  dispersing  at  the  same  time,  the  tumul- 
tuous little  mob  of  glasses  the  girl  had  collected  in 
the  centre  of  the  table ;  'now,  Betsy,  the  warm  water : 
be  brisk,  there 's  a  good  girl.' 

'You  can't  have  no  warm  water/  replied  Betsy. 

'No  warm  water!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'No/  said  the  girl,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  which 
expressed  a  more  decided  negative  than  the  most 
copious  language  could  have  conveyed.  'Missis  Rad- 
dle said  you  warn't  to  have  none.' 

The  surprise  depicted  on  the  countenances  of  his 
guests  imparted  new  courage  to  the  host. 

'Bring  up  the  warm  water  instantly — instantly!' 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  desperate  sternness. 

'No.  I  can't/  replied  the  girl;  'Missis  Raddle 
raked  out  the  kitchen  fire  afore  she  went  to  bed,  and 
locked  up  the  kittle/ 

'Oh,  never  mind;  never  mind.  Pray  don't  dis- 
turb yourself  about  such  a  trifle/  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
observing  the  conflict  of  Bob  Sawyer's  passions,  as 
depicted  in  his  countenance,  'cold  water  will  do  very 
well/ 

'Oh,  admirably/  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'My  landlady  is  subject  to  some  slight  attacks  of 
mental  derangement/  remarked  Bob  Sawyer  with  a 
ghastly  smile ;  'and  I  fear  I  must  give  her  warning/ 

'No,  don't/  said  Ben  Allen. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  51 

'I  fear  I  must,'  said  Bob  with  heroic  firmness. 
'I  '11  pay  her  what  I  owe  her,  and  give  her  warning 
to-morrow  morning.'  Poor  fellow!  how  devoutly  he 
wished  he  could! 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  heart-sickening  attempts  to 
rally  under  this  last  blow,  communicated  a  dispirit- 
ing influence  to  the  company,  the  greater  part  of 
whom,  with  the  view  of  raising  their  spirits,  attached 
themselves  with  extra  cordiality  to  the  cold  brandy- 
and-water,  the  first  perceptible  effects  of  which  were 
displayed  in  a  renewal  of  hostilities  between  the  scor- 
butic youth  and  the  gentleman  in  the  shirt.  The 
belligerents  vented  their  feelings  of  mutual  contempt, 
for  some  time,  in  a  variety  of  f rownings  and  snortings, 
until  at  last  the  scorbutic  youth  felt  it  necessary  to 
come  to  a  more  explicit  understanding  on  the  matter ; 
when  the  following  clear  understanding  took  place. 

'Sawyer,'  said  the  scorbutic  youth,  in  a  loud 
voice. 

'Well,  Noddy,'  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'I  should  be  very  sorry,  Sawyer/  said  Mr.  Noddy, 
'to  create  any  unpleasantness  at  any  friend's  table, 
and  much  less  at  yours,  Sawyer — very;  but  I  must 
take  this  opportunity  of  informing  Mr.  Gunter  that 
he  is  no  gentleman.' 

'And  I  should  be  very  sorry,  Sawyer,  to  create 
any  disturbance  in  the  street  in  which  you  reside,' 
said  Mr.  Gunter,  'but  I  'm  afraid  I  shall  be  under 
the  necessity  of  alarming  the  neighbours  by  throwing 
the  person  who  has  just  spoken,  out  o'  window.' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?'  inquired  Mr. 
Noddy. 

'What  I  say,  sir/  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

'I  should  like  to  see  you  do  it,  sir/  said  Mr.  Noddy. 

'You  shall  feel  me  do  it  in  half  a  minute,  sir/  re- 
plied Mr.  Gunter. 


52  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  request  that  you  '11  favour  me  with  your  card, 
sir/  said  Mr.  Noddy. 

•  'I  '11  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Gun- 
ter. 

'Why  not,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Noddy. 

'Because  you  '11  stick  it  up  over  your  chimney- 
piece,  and  delude  your  visitors  into  the  false  belief 
that  a  gentleman  has  been  to  see  you,  sir,'  replied  Mr. 
Gunter. 

'Sir,  a  friend  of  mine  shall  wait  on  you  in  the  morn- 
ing,' said  Mr.  Noddy. 

'Sir,  I  'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  caution, 
and  I  '11  leave  particular  directions  with  the  servant 
to  lock  up  the  spoons,'  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

At  this  point  the  remainder  of  the  guests  inter- 
posed, and  remonstrated  with  both  parties  on  the 
impropriety  of  their  conduct;  on  which  Mr.  Noddy 
begged  to  state  that  his  father  was  quite  as  respectable 
as  Mr.  Gunter's  father ;  to  which  Mr.  Gunter  replied 
that  his  father  was  to  the  full  as  respectable  as 
Mr.  Noddy's  father,  and  that  his  father's  son  was 
as  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Noddy,  any  day  in  the  week. 
As  this  announcement  seemed  the  prelude  to  a  recom- 
mencement of  the  dispute,  there  was  another  inter- 
ference on  the  part  of  the  company;  and  a  vast 
quantity  of  talking  and  clamouring  ensued,  in  the 
course  of  which  Mr.  Noddy  gradually  allowed  his  feel- 
ings to  overpower  him,  and  professed  that  he  had  ever 
entertained  a  devoted  personal  attachment  towards 
Mr.  Gunter.  To  this  Mr.  Gunter  replied  that,  upon 
the  whole,  he  rather  preferred  Mr.  Noddy  to  his 
own  brother ;  on  hearing  which  admission,  Mr.  Noddy 
magnanimously  rose  from  his  seat,  and  proffered  his 
hand  to  Mr.  Gunter.  Mr.  Gunter  grasped  it  with 
affecting  fervour;  and  everybody  said  that  the  whole 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  53 

dispute  had  been  conducted  in  a  manner  which  was 
highly  honourable  to  both  parties  concerned. 

'Now,'  said  Jack  Hopkins,  'just  to  set  us  going 
again,  Bob,  I  don't  mind  singing  a  song.'  And 
Hopkins,  incited  thereto,  by  tumultuous  applause, 
plunged  himself  at  once  into  'The  King,  God  bless 
him,'  which  he  sang  as  loud  as  he  could,  to  a  novel  air, 
compounded  of  'The  Bay  of  Biscay,'  and  'A  Frog 
he  would.'  The  chorus  was  the  essence  of  the  song; 
and,  as  each  gentleman  sang  it  to  the  tune  he  knew 
best,  the  effect  was  very  striking  indeed. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  chorus  to  the  first  verse, 
that  Mr.  Pickwick  held  up  his  hand  in  a  listening  at- 
titude, and  said,  as  soon  as  silence  was  restored— 

'Hush!  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  I  heard 
somebody  calling  from  upstairs.' 

A  profound  silence  immediately  ensued;  and  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  was  observed  to  turn  pale. 

'I  think  I  hear  it  now,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Have 
the  goodness  to  open  the  door.' 

The  door  was  no  sooner  opened  than  all  doubt  on 
the  subject  was  removed. 

'Mr.  Sawyer!  Mr.  Sawyer!'  screamed  a  voice 
from  the  two-pair  landing. 

'It 's  my  landlady,'  said  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  round 
him  with  great  dismay.  'Yes,  Mrs.  Raddle.' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  this,  Mr.  Sawyer?'  replied 
the  voice,  with  great  shrillness  and  rapidity  of  utter- 
ance. 'Ain't  it  enough  to  be  swindled  out  of  one's 
rent,  and  money  lent  out  of  pocket  besides,  and 
abused  and  insulted  by  your  friends  that  dares  to  call 
themselves  men :  without  having  the  house  turned  out 
of  window,  and  noise  enough  made  to  bring  the  fire- 
engines  here,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning? — Turn 
them  wretches  away.' 


54  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves/  said  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Raddle,  which  appeared  to  proceed  from 
beneath  some  distant  bed-clothes. 

'Ashamed  of  themselves !'  said  Mrs.  Raddle.  'Why 
don't  you  go  down  and  knock  'em  every  one  down- 
stairs? You  would,  if  you  was  a  man.' 

'I  should  if  I  was  a  dozen  men,  my  dear,'  replied 
Mr.  Raddle,  pacifically,  'but  they  Ve  the  advantage  of 
me  in  numbers,  my  dear.' 

'Ugh,  you  coward  1'  replied  Mrs.  Raddle,  with 
supreme  contempt.  fDo  you  mean  to  turn  them 
wretches  out,  or  not,  Mr.  Sawyer?' 

'They  're  going,  Mrs.  Raddle,  they  're  going,'  said 
the  miserable  Bob.  'I  am  afraid  you  'd  better  go,' 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  to  his  friends.  'I  thought  you 
were  making  too  much  noise.' 

'It 's  a  very  unfortunate  thing,'  said  the  prim  man. 
'Just  as  we  were  getting  so  comfortable  too!'  The 
prim  man  was  just  beginning  to  have  a  dawning  recol- 
lection of  the  story  he  had  forgotten. 

'It 's  hardly  to  be  borne,'  said  the  prim  man,  look- 
ing round.  'Hardly  to  be  borne,  is  it?' 

'Not  to  be  endured,'  replied  Jack  Hopkins ;  'let 's 
have  the  other  verse,  Bob.  Come,  here  goes !' 

'No,  no,  Jack,  don't,'  interposed  Bob  Sawyer;  'it 's 
a  capital  song,  but  I  am  afraid  we  had  better  not 
have  the  other  verse.  They  are  very  violent  people, 
the  people  of  the  house.' 

'Shall  I  step  upstairs,  and  pitch  into  the  landlord?' 
inquired  Hopkins,  'or  keep  on  ringing  the  bell,  or  go 
and  groan  on  the  staircase?  You  may  command  me, 
Bob.' 

'I  am  very  much  indebted  to  you  for  your  friend- 
ship and  good  nature,  Hopkins,'  said  the  wretched 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  'but  I  think  the  best  plan  to  avoid 
any  further  dispute  is  for  us  to  break  up  at  once.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  55 

'Now,  Mr.  Sawyer!'  screamed  the  shrill  voice  of 
Mrs.  Raddle,  'are  them  brutes  going?' 

'They  're  only  looking  for  their  hats,  Mrs.  Raddle,' 
said  Bob;  'they  are  going  directly.' 

'Going!'  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  thrusting  her  night-cap 
over  the  banisters  just  as  Mr.  Pickwick,  followed  by 
Mr.  Tupman,  emerged  from  the  sitting-room. 
'Going!  what  did  they  ever  come  for?' 

'My  dear  ma'am,'  remonstrated  Mr.  Pickwick, 
looking  up. 

'Get  along  with  you,  you  old  wretch!'  replied  Mrs. 
Raddle,  hastily  withdrawing  the  night-cap.  'Old 
enough  to  be  his  grandfather,  you  willin !  You  're 
worse  than  any  of  'em.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  it  in  vain  to  protest  his  in- 
nocence, so  hurried  downstairs  into  the  street,  whither 
he  was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass.  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  was  dis- 
mally depressed  with  spirits  and  agitation,  accom- 
panied them  as  far  as  London  Bridge,  and  in  the 
course  of  the  walk  confided  to  Mr.  Winkle,  as  an 
especially  eligible  person  to  intrust  the  secret  to,  that 
he  was  resolved  to  cut  the  throat  of  any  gentleman 
except  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  who  should  aspire  to  the 
affections  of  his  sister  Arabella.  Having  expressed 
his  determination  to  perform  this  painful  duty  of  a 
brother  with  proper  firmness,  he  burst  into  tears, 
knocked  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and,  making  the  best 
of  his  way  back,  knocked  double  knocks  at  the  door 
of  the  Borough  Market  office,  and  took  short  naps  on 
the  steps  alternately,  until  daybreak,  under  the  firm 
impression  that  he  lived  there,  and  had  forgotten  the 
key. 

The  visitors  having  all  departed,  in  compliance  with 
the  rather  pressing  request  of  Mrs.  Raddle,  the  luck- 
less Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  left  alone,  to  meditate  on 


56  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  probable  events  of  to-morrow,  and  the  pleasures  of 
the  evening. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

MR.  WELLER  THE  ELDER  DELIVERS  SOME  CRITICAL  SENTI- 
MENTS RESPECTING  LITERARY  COMPOSITION;  AND, 
ASSISTED  BY  HIS  SON  SAMUEL,  PAYS  A  SMALL  IN- 
STALMENT OF  RETALIATION  TO  THE  ACCOUNT  OF 
THE  REVEREND  GENTLEMAN  WITH  THE  RED  NOSE 

THE  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  February,  which 
the  readers  of  this  authentic  narrative  know,  as  well 
as  we  do,  to  have  been  the  day  immediately  preceding 
that  which  was  appointed  for  the  trial  of  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell's  action,  was  a  busy  time  for  Mr.  Samuel  Weller, 
who  was  perpetually  engaged  in  travelling  from  the 
George  and  Vulture  to  Mr.  Perker's  chambers  and 
back  again,  from  and  between  the  hours  of  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  two  in  the  afternoon,  both 
inclusive.  Not  that  there  was  anything  whatever  to 
be  done,  for  the  consultation  had  taken  place,  and  the 
course  of  proceeding  to  be  adopted,  had  been  finally 
determined  on;  but  Mr.  Pickwick  being  in  a  most 
extreme  state  of  excitement,  persevered  in  constantly 
sending  small  notes  to  his  attorney,  merely  contain- 
ing the  inquiry,  'Dear  Perker.  Is  all  going  on 
well?'  to  which  Mr.  Perker  invariably  forwarded  the 
reply,  'Dear  Pickwick.  As  well  as  possible' ;  the  fact 
being,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  that  there  was  noth- 
ing whatever  to  go  on,  either  well  or  ill,  until  the 
sitting  of  the  court  on  the  following  morning. 

But  people  who  go  voluntarily  to  law,  or  are  taken 
forcibly  there,  for  the  first  time,  may  be  allowed  to 
labour  under  some  temporary  irritation  and  anxiety: 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  57 

and  Sam,  with  a  due  allowance  for  the  frailties  of 
human  nature,  obeyed  all  his  master's  behests  with 
that  imperturbable  good  humour  and  unruffable  com- 
posure which  formed  one  of  his  most  striking  and 
amiable  characteristics. 

Sam  had  solaced  himself  with  a  most  agreeable  lit- 
tle dinner,  and  was  waiting  at  the  bar  for  the  glass 
of  warm  mixture  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  had  re- 
quested him  to  drowrn  the  fatigues  of  his  morning's 
walks,  when  a  young  boy  of  about  three  feet  high,  or 
thereabouts,  in  a  hairy  cap  and  fustian  over-alls, 
whose  garb  bespoke  a  laudable  ambition  to  attain  in 
time  the  elevation  of  an  hostler,  entered  the  passage 
of  the  George  and  Vulture,  and  looked  first  up  the 
stairs,  and  then  along  the  passage,  and  then  into  the 
bar,  as  if  in  search  of  somebody  to  whom  he  bore  a 
commission;  whereupon  the  barmaid,  conceiving  it 
not  improbable  that  the  said  commission  might  be 
directed  to  the  tea  or  table  spoons  of  the  establishment, 
accosted  the  boy  with 

'Now,  young  man,  what  do  you  want  ?' 

'Is  there  anybody  here,  named  Sam?'  inquired  the 
youth,  in  a  loud  voice  of  treble  quality. 

'What 's  the  t'other  name?'  said  Sam  Weller,  look- 
ing round. 

'How  should  I  know?'  briskly  replied  the  young 
gentleman  below  the  hairy  cap. 

'You  're  a  sharp  boy,  you  are,'  said  Mr.  Weller; 
'only  I  wouldn't  show  that  wery  fine  edge  too  much, 
if  I*  was  you,  in  case  anybody  took  it  off.  What  do 
you  mean  by  comin'  to  a  hot-el,  and  asking  arter  Sam, 
vith  as  much  politeness  as  a  vild  Indian?' 

'  'Cos  an  old  gen'l'm'n  told  me  to,'  replied  the  boy. 

'What  old  gen'l'm'n?'  inquired  Sam,  with  deep  dis- 
dain. 

'Him  as  drives  a  Ipswich  coach,  and  uses  OUT 


58  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

parlour,'  rejoined  the  boy.  'He  told  me  yesterday 
mornin'  to  come  to  the  George  and  Wultur  this  arter- 
noon,  and  ask  for  Sam.' 

'It 's  my  father,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  turn- 
ing with  an  explanatory  air  to  the  young  lady  in  the 
bar ;  'blessed  if  I  think  he  hardly  knows  wot  my  other 
name  is.  Veil,  young  brockiley  sprout,  wot  then?' 

'Why,  then,'  said  the  boy,  'you  was  to  come  to  him 
at  six  o'clock  to  our  'ouse,  'cos  he  wants  to  see  you — 
Blue  Boar,  Leaden'all  Markit.  Shall  I  say  you  're 
comin'  ?' 

'You  may  wenture  on  that  'ere  statement,  sir,'  re- 
plied Sam.  And  thus  empowered,  the  young  gentle- 
man walked  away,  awakening  all  the  echoes  in  George 
Yard  as  he  did  so,  with  several  chaste  and  extremely 
correct  imitations  of  a  drover's  whistle,  delivered  in 
a  tone  of  peculiar  richness  and  volume. 

Mr.  Weller  having  obtained  leave  of  absence  from 
Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  in  his  then  state  of  excitement 
and  worry  was  by  no  means  displeased  at  being  left 
alone,  set  forth,  long  before  the  appointed  hour,  and 
having  plenty  of  time  at  his  disposal,  sauntered  down 
as  far  as  the  Mansion  House,  where  he  paused  and 
contemplated,  with  a  face  of  great  calmness  and 
philosophy,  the  numerous  cads  and  drivers  of  short 
stages  who  assemble  near  that  famous  place  of  resort, 
to  the  great  terror  and  confusion  of  the  old-lady 
population  of  these  realms.  Having  loitered  here, 
for  half  an  hour  or  so,  Mr.  Weller  turned,  and  began 
wending  his  way  towards  Leadenhall  Market, 
through  a  variety  of  bye-streets  and  courts.  As  he 
was  sauntering  away  his  spare  time,  and  stopped  to 
look  at  almost  every  object  that  met  his  gaze,  it  is 
by  no  means  surprising  that  Mr.  Weller  should  have 
paused  before  a  small  stationer's  and  print-seller's 
window;  but  without  further  explanation  it  does  ap- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  59 

pear  surprising  that  his  eyes  should  have  no  sooner 
rested  on  certain  pictures  which  were  exposed  for  sale 
therein,  than  he  gave  a  sudden  start,  smote  his  right 
leg  with  great  vehemence,  and  exclaimed  with  energy, 
'If  it  hadn't  been  for  this,  I  should  ha'  forgot  all 
about  it,  'till  it  was  too  late!' 

The  particular  picture  on  which  Sam  Weller's  eyes 
were  fixed,  as  he  said  this,  was  a  highly  coloured 
representation  of  a  couple  of  human  hearts  skewered 
together  with  an  arrow,  cooking  before  a  cheerful  fire, 
while  a  male  and  female  cannibal  in  modern  attire:  the 
geiicleman  being  clad  in  a  blue  coat  and  white 
trousers,  and  the  lady  in  a  deep  red  pelisse  with  a 
parasol  of  the  same:  were  approaching  the  meal  with 
hungry  eyes,  rp  a  serpentine  gravel  path  leading 
thereunto.  A  decidedly  indelicate  young  gentle- 
man, in  a  pair  of  wings  and  nothing  else,  was  de- 
picted as  superintending  the  cooking;  a  representa« 
tion  of  the  spire  of  the  church  in  Langham  Place, 
London,  appeared  in  the  distance;  and  the  whole 
formed  a  'valentine,'  of  which,  as  a  written  inscrip- 
tion in  the  window  testified,  there  was  a  large  assort- 
ment within,  which  the  shopkeeper  pledged  himself 
to  dispose  of,  to  his  countrymen  generally,  at  the  re- 
duced rate  of  one  and  sixpence  each. 

'I  should  ha'  forgot  it;  I  should  certainly  ha'  for- 
got it!'  said  Sam;  so  saying,  he  at  once  stepped  into 
the  stationer's  shop,  and  requested  to  be  served  with 
a  sheet  of  the  best  gilt-edged  letter-paper,  and  a  hard- 
nibbed  pen  which  could  be  warranted  not  to  splutter. 
These  articles  having  been  promptly  supplied,  he 
walked  on  direct  towards  Leadenhall  Market  at  a 
good  round  pace,  very  different  from  his  recent  lin- 
gering one.  Looking  round  him,  he  there  beheld  a 
signboard  on  which  the  painter's  art  had  delineated 
something  remotely  resembling  a  cerulean  elephant 


60  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

with  an  aquiline  nose  in  lieu  of  trunk.  Rightly  con- 
jecturing that  this  was  the  Blue  Boar  himself,  he 
stepped  into  the  house,  and  inquired  concerning 
his  parent. 

'He  won't  be  here  this  three  quarters  of  an  hour 
or  more/  said  the  young  lady  who  superintended  the 
domestic  arrangements  of  the  Blue  Boar. 

'Wery  good,  my  dear,'  replied  Sam.  'Let  me  have 
nine  penn'orth  o'  brandy-and-water  luke,  and  the  ink- 
stand, will  you,  miss  ?' 

The  brandy-and-water  luke,  and  the  inkstand,  hav- 
ing been  carried  into  the  little  parlour,  and  the  young 
lady  having  carefully  flattened  down  the  coals  to 
prevent  their  blazing,  and  carried  away  the  poker  to 
preclude  the  possibility  of  the  fire  being  stirred,  with- 
out the  full  privity  and  concurrence  of  the  Blue  Boar 
being  first  had  and  obtained,  Sam  Weller  sat  himself 
down  in  a  box  near  the  stove,  and  pulled  out  the  sheet 
of  gilt-edged  letter-paper,  and  the  hard-nibbed  pen. 
Then  looking  carefully  at  the  pen  to  see  that  there 
were  no  hairs  in  it,  and  dusting  down  the  table,  so 
that  there  might  be  no  crumbs  of  bread  under  the 
paper,  Sam  tucked  up  the  cuffs  of  his  coat,  squared 
his  elbows,  and  composed  himself  to  write. 

To  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  are  not  in  the  habit 
of  devoting  themselves  practically  to  the  science  of 
penmanship,  writing  a  letter  is  no  very  easy  task;  it 
being  always  considered  necessary  in  such  cases  for 
the  writer  to  recline  his  head  on  his  left  arm,  so  as 
to  place  his  eyes  as  nearly  as  possible  on  a  level  with 
the  paper,  while  glancing  sideways  at  the  letters  he 
is  constructing,  to  form  with  his  tongue  imaginary 
characters  to  correspond.  These  motions,  although 
unquestionably  of  the  greatest  assistance  to  original 
composition,  retard  in  some  degree  the  progress  of 
the  writer;  and  Sam  had  unconsciously  been  a  full 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  61 

hour  and  a  half  writing  words  in  small  text,  smear- 
ing out  wrong  letters  with  his  little  finger,  and  put- 
ting in  .new  ones  which  required  going  over  very  often 
to  render  them  visible  through  the  old  blots,  when  he 
was  roused  by  the  opening  of  the  door,  and  the 
entrance  of  his  parent. 

'Veil,  Sammy,'  said  the  father. 

'Veil,  my  Prooshan  Blue,'  responded  the  son,  lay- 
ing down  his  pen.  'What 's  the  last  bulletin  about 
mother-in-law?' 

'Mrs.  Veller  passed  a  very  good  night,  but  is  un- 
common perwerse,  and  unpleasant  this  mornin'. 
Signed  upon  oath,  S.  Veller,  Esquire,  Senior.  That 's 
the  last  vun  as  was  issued,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Wel- 
ler,  untying  his  shawl. 

'No  better  yet?'  inquired  Sam. 

'All  the  symptoms  aggerawated,'  replied  Mr.  Wel- 
ler,  shaking  his  head.  'But  wot 's  that,  you  're  a  doin* 
of?  Pursuit  of  knowledge  under  difficulties, 
Sammy?' 

'I  Ve  done  now,'  said  Sam  with  slight  embarrass- 
ment; 'I  Ve  been  a  writinV 

'So  I  see,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'Not  to  any  young 
'ooman,  I  hope,  Sammy?' 

'Why  it 's  no  use  a  sayin'  it  ain't,'  replied  Sam, 
'it 's  a  walentine.' 

'A  what !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  apparently  horror- 
stricken  by  the  word. 

'A  walentine/  replied  Sam. 

'Samivel,  Samivel,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  reproach- 
ful accents,  'I  didn't  think  you  'd  ha'  done  it.  Arter 
the  warnin'  you  Ve  had  o*  your  father's  wicious  pro- 
pensities ;  arter  all  I  Ve  said  to  you  upon  this  here 
wery  subject;  arter  actiwally  seein'  and  bein'  in  the 
company  o'  your  own  mother-in-law,  vich  I  should  ha' 
thought  wos  a  moral  lesson  as  no  man  could  never 


62  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ha'  forgotten  to  his  dyin'  day !  I  didn't  think  you  'd 
ha'  done  it,  Sammy,  I  didn't  think  you  'd  ha'  done  it !' 
These  reflections  were  too  much  for  the  good  old  man. 
He  raised  Sam's  tumbler  to  his  lips  and  drank  off  its 
contents. 

'Wot 's  the  matter  now?'  said  Sam. 

'Nev'r  mind,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'it  '11  be 
a  wery  agonizin'  trial  to  me  at  my  time  of  life,  but 
I  'm  pretty  tough,  that 's  vun  consolation,  as  the  wery 
old  turkey  remarked  wen  the  farmer  said  he  wos 
afeerd  he  should  be  obliged  to  kill  him  for  the  London 
market.' 

'Wot  '11  be  a  trial?'  inquired  Sam. 

'To  see  you  married,  Sammy — to  see  you  a  dilluded 
wictim,  and  thinkin'  in  your  innocence  that  it 's  all 
wery  capital,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'It 's  a  dreadful 
trial  to  a  father's  f eelin's,  that  'ere,  Sammy.' 

'Nonsense,'  said  Sam.  'I  ain't  a  goin'  to  get  mar- 
ried, don't  you  fret  yourself  about  that ;  I  know  you  're 
a  judge  of  these  things.  Order  in  your  pipe,  and  I  '11 
read  you  the  letter.  There  I' 

We  cannot  distinctly  say  whether  it  was  the  pros- 
pect of  the  pipe,  or  the  consolatory  reflection  that  a 
fatal  disposition  to  get  married  ran  in  the  family  and 
couldn't  be  helped,  which  calmed  Mr.  Weller's  feel- 
ings, and  caused  his  grief  to  subside.  We  should  be 
rather  disposed  to  say  that  the  result  was  attained  by 
combining  the  two  sources  of  consolation,  for  he  re- 
peated the  second  in  a  low  tone,  very  frequently ;  ring- 
ing the  bell  meanwhile,  to  order  in  the  first.  He  then 
divested  himself  of  his  upper  coat;  and  lighting  the 
pipe  and  placing  himself  in  front  of  the  fire  with  his 
back  towards  it,  so  that  he  could  feel  its  full  heat,  and 
recline  against  the  mantelpiece  at  the  same  time, 
turned  towards  Sam,  and,  with  a  countenance  greatly 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  63 

mollified  by  the  softening  influence  of  tobacco,  re- 
quested him  to  'fire  away.' 

Sam  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink  to  be  ready  for 
any  corrections,  and  began  with  a  very  theatrical 
air — 

'  "Lovely—"  ' 

'Stop,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  ringing  the  bell.  'A 
double  glass  o'  the  inwariable,  my  dear.' 

'Very  well,  sir,'  replied  the  girl;  who  with  great 
quickness  appeared,  vanished,  returned,  and  disap- 
peared. 

'They  seem  to  know  your  ways  here,'  observed  Sam. 

'Yes,'  replied  his  father,  'I  've  been  here  before,  in 
my  time.  Go  on,  Sammy.' 

"Lovely  creetur,"  '  repeated  Sam. 

;  'Tain't  in  poetry,  is  it?'  interposed  his  father. 

*Xo,  no,'  replied  Sam. 

'Wery  glad  to  hear  it,'  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Poetry  's 
unnat'ral;  no  man  ever  talked  poetry  'cept  a  beadle 
on  Boxin'  Day,  or  Warren's  blackin',  or  Rowlands' 
oil,  or  some  o'  them  low  fellows ;  never  you  let  yourself 
down  to  talk  poetry,  my  boy.  Begin  agin,  Sammy.' 

Mr.  Weller  resumed  his  pipe  with  critical  solemnity, 
and  Sam  once  more  commenced,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : — 

'  "Lovely  creetur  i  feel  myself  a  dammed— 

'That  ain't  proper,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth. 

'Xo ;  it  ain't  "dammed,"  '  observed  Sam,  holding 
the  letter  up  to  the  light,  'it 's  "shamed,"  there  's  a 
blot  there — "I  feel  myself  ashamed." 

'Wery  good,'  said  Mr.  Weller.     'Go  on.' 

'  "Feel  myself  ashamed,  and  completely  cir— 
I  forget  what  this  here  word  is,'  said  Sam,  scratching 
his  head  with  the  pen.  in  vain  attempts  to  remember. 


64  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Why  don't  you  look  at  it,  then?'  inquired  Mr. 
Weller. 

'So  I  am  a  lookin'  at  it,'  replied  Sam,  'but  there  's 
another  blot.  Here  's  a  "c,"  and  a  "i,"  and  a  "d." 

'Circumwented,  p'raps,'  suggested  Mr.  Weller. 

'No,  it  ain't  that,'  said  Sam,  'circumscribed ;  that 's 
it.' 

'That  ain't  as  good  a  word  as  circumwented, 
Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  gravely. 

'Think  not?'  said  Sam. 

'Nothin'  like  it,'  replied  his  father. 

'But  don't  you  think  it  means  more?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Veil,  p'raps  it  is  a  more  tenderer  word,'  said  Mr. 
Weller,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection.  'Go  on, 
Sammy.' 

'  "Feel  myself  ashamed  and  completely  circum- 
scribed in  a  dressin'  of  you,  for  you  are  a  nice  gal  and 
nothin'  but  it." 

'That 's  a  wery  pretty  sentiment,'  said  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller,  removing  his  pipe  to  make  way  for  the 
remark. 

'Yes,  I  think  it  is  rayther  good,'  observed  Sam, 
highly  flattered. 

'Wot  I  like  in  that  'ere  style  of  writin','  said  the 
elder  Mr.  Weller,  'is,  that  there  ain't  no  callin'  names 
in  it, — no  Wenuses,  nor  nothin'  o'  that  kind.  Wot 's 
the  good  o'  callin'  a  young  'ooman  a  Wenus  or  a  angel, 
Sammy?' 

'Ah!  what,  indeed?'  replied  Sam. 

'You  might  jist  as  well  call  her  a  griffin,  or  a  uni- 
corn, or  a  king's  arms  at  once,  which  is  wery  well 
known  to  be  a  col-lection  o'  fabulous  animals,'  added 
Mr.  Weller. 

'Just  as  well,'  replied  Sam. 

'Drive  on,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  complied  with  the  request,  and  proceeded  as 


THE   VALENTINE. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  65 

follows  ;  his  father  continuing  to  smoke,  with  a  mixed 
expression  of  wisdom  and  complacency,  which  was 
particularly  edifying. 

"Afore  I  see  you,  I  thought  all  women  was 
alike." 

'So  they  are,'  observed  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  paren- 
thetically. 

"But  now,"  '  continued  Sam,  '  "now  I  find  what  a 
reg'lar  soft-headed,  inkred'lous  turnip  I  must  ha' 
been;  for  there  ain't  nobody  like  you,  though  /  like 
you  better  than  nothin'  at  all."  I  thought  it  best  to 
make  that  rayther  strong,'  said  Sam,  looking  up. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  approvingly,  and  Sam  resumed. 

'  "So  I  take  the  privilidge  of  the  day,  Mary,  my 
dear  —  as  the  gen'l'm'n  in  difficulties  did,  ven  he 
valked  out  of  a  Sunday,  —  to  tell  you  that  the  first  and 
only  time  I  see  you,  your  likeness  was  took  on  my 
hart  in  much  quicker  time  and  brighter  colours  than 
ever  a  likeness  was  took  by  the  pro  feel  macheen  (wich 
p'raps  you  may  have  heerd  on  Mary  my  dear)  altho  it 
does  finish  a  portrait  and  put  the  frame  and  glass 
on  complete,  with  a  hook  at  the  end  to  hang  it  up  by, 
and  all  in  two  minutes  and  a  quarter." 

'I  am  afeerd  that  werges  on  the  poetical,  Sammy,' 
said  Mr.  Weller,  dubiously. 

'No  it  don't,'  replied  Sam,  reading  on  very  quickly, 
to  avoid  contesting  the  point— 

'  "Except  of  me  Mary  my  dear  as  your  walentine 
and  think  over  what  I  've  said.  —  My  dear  Mary  I  will 
now  conclude."  That  's  all,'  said  Sam. 

'That  's  rather  a  sudden  pull  up,  ain't  it,  Sammy?' 
inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'Not  a  bit  on  it,'  said  Sam;  'she'll  vish  there 


more,  and  that  's  the  great  art  o'  letter  writin'.' 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'there  's  somethin'  in  that; 
and  I  wish  your  mother-in-law  'ud  only  conduct  her 


66  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

conwersation  on  the  same  gen-teel  principle.  Ain't 
you  a  goin'  to  sign  it?' 

'That 's  the  difficulty,'  said  Sam;  'I  don't  know  what 
to  sign  it.' 

'Sign  it,  Veller,'  said  the  oldest  surviving  proprietor 
of  that  name. 

'Won't  do,'  said  Sam.  'Never  sign  a  walentine 
with  your  own  name.' 

'Sign  it  "Pickvick,"  then,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  'it 's  a 
wery  good  name,  and  a  easy  one  to  spell.' 

'The  wery  thing,'  said  Sam.  'I  could  end  with  a 
werse;  what  do  you  think?' 

'I  don't  like  it,  Sam,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  'I 
never  know'd  a  respectable  coachman  as  wrote  poetry, 
'cept  one,  as  made  an  affectin'  copy  o'  werses  the  night 
afore  he  wos  hung  for  a  highway  robbery ;  and  he  wos 
only  a  Cambervell  man,  so  even  that 's  no  rule.' 

But  Sam  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  the  poetical 
idea  that  had  occurred  to  him,  so  he  signed  the  letter, 

'Your  love-sick 
Pickwick.' 

And  having  folded  it,  in  a  very  intricate  manner, 
squeezed  a  down-hill  direction  in  one  corner:  'To 
Mary,  House-maid,  at  Mr.  Nupkins's  Mayor's,  Ips- 
wich, Suffolk';  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  wa- 
fered,  and  ready  for  the  General  Post.  This  im- 
portant business  having  been  transacted,  Mr.  Weller 
the  elder  proceeded  to  open  that,  on  which  he  had 
summoned  his  son. 

'The  first  matter  relates  to  your  governor,  Sammy,' 
said  Mr.  Weller.  'He  's  a  goin'  to  be  tried  to-mor- 
row, ain't  he?' 

'The  trial 's  a  comin'  on,'  replied  Sam. 

'Veil,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'now  I  s'pose  he  '11  want  to 
call  some  witnesses  to  speak  to  his  character,  or  p'raps 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  67 

to  prove  a  alleybi.  I  Ve  been  a  turnin'  the  bis'ness 
over  in  my  mind,  and  he  may  make  his-self  easy, 
Sammy.  I  Ve  got  some  friends  as  '11  do  either  for 
him,  but  my  adwice  'ud  be  this  here — never  mind  the 
character,  and  stick  to  the  alleybi.  Nothing  like  a 
alleybi,  Sammy,  nothing.'  Mr.  Weller  looked  very 
profound  as  he  delivered  this  legal  opinion;  and  bury- 
ing his  nose  in  his  tumbler,  winked  over  the  top 
thereof,  at  his  astonished  son. 

'Why,  what  do  you  mean?'  said  Sam;  'you  don't 
think  he  's  a  goin'  to  be  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey,  do 
you?' 

'That  ain't  no  part  of  the  present  con-sideration, 
Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'Verever  he  's  a  goin' 
to  be  tried,  my  boy,  a  alleybi 's  the  thing  to  get  him 
off.  Ve  got  Tom  Vildspark  off  that  'ere  manslaugh- 
ter, with  a  alleybi,  ven  all  the  big  vigs  to  a  man  saic^. 
as  nothing  couldn't  save  him.  And  my  'pinion  is^ 
Sammy,  that  if  your  governor  don't  prove  a  alleybie 
he  '11  be  what  the  Italians  call  reg'larly  flummoxed, 
and  that 's  all  about  it.' 

As  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  entertained  a  firm  and 
unalterable  conviction  that  the  Old  Bailey  was  the 
supreme  court  of  judicature  in  this  country,  and  that 
its  rules  and  forms  of  proceeding  regulated  and  con- 
trolled the  practice  of  all  other  courts  of  justice  what- 
soever, he  totally  disregarded  the  assurances  and 
arguments  of  his  son,  tending  to  show  that  the  alibi 
was  inadmissible;  and  vehemently  protested  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  being  Victimised.'  Finding  that  it 
was  of  no  use  to  discuss  the  matter  further,  Sam 
changed  the  subject,  and  inquired  what  the  second 
topic  was,  on  which  his  revered  parent  wished  to  con- 
sult him. 

'That 's  a  pint  o'  domestic  policy,  Sammy,'  said  Mr. 
Weller.  'This  here  Stiggins— ' 


68  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Red-nosed  man?'  inquired  Sam. 

'The  wery  same,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'This  here 
red-nosed  man,  Sammy,  wisits  vour  mother-in-law 
vith  a  kindness  and  constancy  as  I  never  see  equalled. 
Pie  's  sitch  a  friend  o'  the  family,  Sammy,  that  wen 
he  's  avay  from  us,  he  can't  be  comfortable  unless  he 
has  somethin'  to  remember  us  by.' 

'And  I  'd  give  him  somethin'  as  'ud  turpentine  and 
bees'-vax  his  memory  for  the  next  ten  years  or  so,  if  I 
wos  you,'  interposed  Sam. 

'Stop  a  minute,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  'I  wos  a  going  to 
say,  he  always  brings  now,  a  flat  bottle  as  holds  about 
a  pint  and  a  half,  and  fills  it  vith  the  pine-apple  rum 
afore  he  goes  avay.' 

'And  empties  it  afore  he  comes  back,  I  s'pose?'  said 
Sam. 

'Clean!'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'never  leaves  nothin' 
in  it  but  the  cork  and  the  smell;  trust  him  for  that, 
Sammy.  Now,  these  here  fellows,  my  boy,  are  a  goin' 
to-night  to  get  up  the  monthly  meetin'  o'  the  Brick 
Lane  Branch  o'  the  United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer 
Temperance  Association.  Your  mother-in-law  wos 
a  goin',  Sammy,  but  she  's  got  the  rheumatics,  and 
can't;  and  I,  Sammy — I  've  got  the  two  tickets  as  wos 
sent  her.'  Mr.  Weller  communicated  this  secret  with 
great  glee,  and  winked  so  indefatigably  after  doing- 
so,  that  Sam  began  to  think  he  must  have  got  the  tic 
doloureux  in  his  right  eye-lid. 

'Well?'  said  that  young  gentleman. 

'Well,'  continued  his  progenitor,  looking  round  bin; 
very  cautiously, 'you  and  I  '11  go,punctiwal  to  the  time. 
The  deputy  shepherd  won't,  Sammy ;  the  deputy  shep- 
herd won't.'  Here  Mr.  Weller  was  seized  with  a 
paroxysm  of  chuckles,  which  gradually  terminated  in 
as  near  an  approach  to  a  choke  as  an  elderly  gentle- 
man can,  with  safety,  sustain. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  69 

k  Well,  I  never  see  sitch  an  old  ghost  in  all  my  born 
days,'  exclaimed  Sam,  rubbing  the  old  gentleman's 
back,  hard  enough  to  set  him  on  fire  with  the  friction. 
'What  are  you  a  laughin'  at,  corpilence  ?' 

'Hush!  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  looking  round 
him  with  increased  caution,  and  speaking  in  a  whis- 
per: •  'Two  friends  o'  mine,  as  works  the  Oxford 
Road,  and  is  up  to  all  kinds  o'  games,  has  got  the 
deputy  shepherd  safe  in  tow,  Sammy;  and  ven  he  does 
come  to  the  Ebenezer  Junction  (vich  he  's  sure  to  do: 
for  they  '11  see  him  to  the  door,  and  shove  him  in  if 
necessary) ,  he  '11  be  as  far  gone  in  rum-and-water,  as 
ever  he  wos  at  the  Markis  o'  Granby,  Dorkin',  and 
that 's  not  sayin'  a  little  neither.'  And  with  this,  Mr. 
Weller  once  more  laughed  immoderately,  and  once 
more  relapsed  into  a  state  of  partial  suffocation,  in 
consequence. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  in  accordance  with 
Sam  Weller's  feelings,  than  the  projected  exposure 
of  the  real  propensities  and  qualities  of  the  red-nosed 
man;  and  it  being  very  near  the  appointed  hour  of 
meeting,  the  father  and  son  took  their  way  at  once  to 
Brick  Lane:  Sam  not  forgetting  to  drop  his  letter 
into  a  general  post-office  as  they  walked  along. 

The  monthly  meetings  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch 
of  the  United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer  Temperance 
Association,  were  held  in  a  large  room,  pleasantly  and 
airily  situated  at  the  top  of  a  safe  and  commodious 
ladder.  The  president  was  the  straight-walking  Mr. 
Anthony  Humm,  a  converted  fireman,  now  a  school* 
master,  and  occasionally  an  itinerant  preacher;  and 
the  secretary  was  Mr.  Jonas  Mudge,  chandler's  shop- 
keeper, an  enthusiastic  and  disinterested  vessel,  who 
sold  tea  to  the  members.  Previous  to  the  commence- 
ment of  business,  the  ladies  sat  upon  forms,  and  drank 
tea,  till  such  time  as  they  considered  it  expedient  to 


70  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

leave  off;  and  a  large  wooden  money-box  was  con- 
spicuously placed  upon  the  green  baize  cloth  of  the 
business  table,  behind  which  the  secretary  stood,  and 
acknowledged,  with  a  gracious  smile,  every  addition 
to  the  rich  vein  of  copper  which  lay  concealed  within. 

On  this  particular  occasion  the  women  drank  tea 
to  a  most  alarming  extent;  greatly  to  the  horror  of 
Mr.  Weller  senior,  who,  utterly  regardless  of  all  Sam's 
admonitory  nudgings,  stared  about  him  in  every  direc- 
tion with  the  most  undisguised  astonishment. 

'Sammy,'  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  'if  some  o'  these 
here  people  don't  want  tappin'  to-morrow  mornin',  I 
ain't  your  father,  and  that 's  wot  it  is.  Why,  this  here 
old  lady  next  me  is  a  drowndin'  herself  in  tea.' 

'Be  quiet,  can't  you?'  murmured  Sam. 

'Sam,'  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  a  moment  afterwards, 
in  a  tone  of  deep  agitation,  'mark  my  vords,  my  boy. 
If  that  'ere  secretary  fellow  keeps  on  for  only  five 
minutes  more,  he  '11  blow  his-self  up  with  toast  and 
water.' 

'Well,  let  him,  if  he  likes,'  replied  Sam;  'it  ain't  no 
bis'ness  o'  your'n.' 

'If  this  here  lasts  much  longer,  Sammy,'  said  Mr. 
Weller,  in  the  same  low  voice,  'I  shall  feel  it  my  duty, 
as  a  human  bein',  to  rise  and  address  the  cheer. 
There  's  a  young  'ooman  on  the  next  f  orm  but  two,  as 
has  drunk  nine  breakfast  cups  and  a  half;  and  she  's 
a  swellin'  wisibly  before  my  wery  eyes.' 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Mr.  Weller  would  have 
carried  his  benevolent  intention  into  immediate  execu- 
tion, if  a  great  noise,  occasioned  by  putting  up  the 
cups  and  saucers,  had  not  very  fortunately  announced 
that  the  tea-drinking  was  over.  The  crockery  having 
been  removed,  the  table  with  the  green  baize  cover  was 
carried  out  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  the  busi- 
ness of  the  evening  was  commenced  by  a  little  em- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  71 

phatic  man,  with  a  bald  head,  and  drab  shorts,  who 
suddenly  rushed  up  the  ladder,  at  the  imminent  peril 
of  snapping  the  two  little  legs  encased  in  the  drab 
shorts,  and  said — 

'Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  move  our  excellent 
brother,  Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  into  the  chair.' 

The  ladies  waved  a  choice  collection  of  pocket 
handkerchiefs  at  this  proposition;  and  the  impetuous 
little  man  literally  moved  Mr.  Humm  into  the  chair, 
by  taking  him  by  the  shoulders  and  thrusting  him 
into  a  mahogany-frame  which  had  once  represented 
that  article  of  furniture.  The  waving  of  handker- 
chiefs was  renewed ;  and  Mr.  Humm,  who  was  a  sleek, 
white-faced  man,  in  a  perpetual  perspiration,  bowed 
meekly,  to  the  great  admiration  of  the  females,  and 
formally  took  his  seat.  Silence  was  then  proclaimed 
by  the  little  man  in  the  drab  shorts,  and  Mr.  Humm 
rose  and  said — That,  with  the  permission  of  his  Brick 
Lane  Branch  brothers'  and  sisters,  then  and  there 
present,  the  secretary  would  read  the  report  of  the 
Brick  Lane  Branch  committee;  a  proposition  which 
wras  again  received  with  a  demonstration  of  pocket 
handkerchiefs. 

The  secretary  having  sneezed  in  a  very  impressive 
manner,  and  the  cough  which  always  seizes  an  assem- 
bly, when  anything  particular  is  going  to  be  done, 
haVing  been  duly  performed,  the  following  document 
was  read: — 

'REPORT  OF  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  THE  BRICK  LANE 

BRANCH  OF  THE  UNITED  GRAND  JUNCTION  EBENEZER 

TEMPERANCE  ASSOCIATION 

'Your  committee  have  pursued  their  grateful 
labours  during  the  past  month,  and  have  the  un- 
speakable pleasure  of  reporting  the  following  addi- 
tional cases  of  converts  to  Temperance. 


72  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'H.  Walker,  tailor,  wife,  and  two  children.  When 
in  better  circumstances,  owns  to  having  been  in  the 
constant  habit  of  drinking  ale  and  beer;  says  he  is 
not  certain  whether  he  did  not  twice  a  week,  for  twenty 
years,  taste  "dog's  nose,"  which  your  committee  find 
upon  inquiry,  to  be  compounded  of  warm  porter, 
moist  sugar,  gin,  and  nutmeg  (a  groan,  and  "So  it 
is!"  from  an  elderly  female).  Is  now  out  of  work 
and  penniless;  thinks  it  must  be  the  porter  (cheers) 
or  the  loss  of  the  use  of  his  right  hand ;  is  not  certain 
which,  but  thinks  it  very  likely  that,  if  he  had  drank 
nothing  but  water  all  his  life,  his  fellow  work-man 
would  never  have  stuck  a  rusty  needle  in  him,  and 
thereby  occasioned  his  accident  (tremendous  cheer- 
ing). Has  nothing  but  cold  water  to  drink,  and 
never  feels  thirsty  (great  applause). 

'Betsy  Martin,  widow,  one  child,  and  one  eye. 
Goes  out  charing  and  washing,  by  the  day ;  never  had 
more  than  one  eye,  but  knows *her  mother  drank  bot- 
tled stout,  and  shouldn't  wonder  if  that  caused  it 
(immense  cheering).  Thinks  it  not  impossible  that 
if  she  had  always  abstained  from  spirits,  she  might 
have  had  two  eyes  by  this  time  (tremendous  applause) . 
Used,  at  every  place  she  went  to,  to  have  eighteen 
pence  a  day,  a  pint  of  porter,  and  a  glass  of  spirits; 
but  since  she  became  a  member  of  the  Brick  Lane 
Branch,  has  always  demanded  three  and  sixpence  in- 
stead (the  announcement  of  this  most  interesting  fact 
was  received  with  deafening  enthusiasm). 

'Henry  Beller  was  for  many  years  toast-master  at 
various  corporation  dinners,  during  which  time  he 
drank  a  great  deal  of  foreign  wine;  may  sometimes 
have  carried  a  bottle  or  two  home  with  him;  is  not 
quite  certain  of  that,  but  is  sure  if  he  did,  that  he 
drank  the  contents.  Feels  very  low  and  melancholy, 
is  very  feverish,  and  has  a  constant  thirst  upon  him; 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  73 

thinks  it  must  be  the  wine  he  used  to  drink  (cheers). 
Is  out  of  employ  now;  and  never  touches  a  drop  of 
foreign  wine  by  any  chance  (tremendous  plaudits). 

'Thomas  Burton  is  purveyor  of  cat's  meat  to  the 
Lord  Mayor  and  Sheriffs,  and  several  members  of 
the  Common  Council  (the  announcement  of  this  gen- 
tleman's name  was  received  with  breathless  interest). 
Has  a  wooden  leg;  finds  a  wooden  leg  expensive,  go- 
ing over  the  stones ;  used  to  wear  second-hand  wooden 
legs,  and  drink  a  glass  of  hot  gin-and-water  reg- 
ularly every  night — sometimes  two  (deep  sighs). 
Found  the  second-hand  wooden  legs  split  and  rot 
very  quickly;  is  firmly  persuaded  that  their  consti- 
tution was  undermined  by  the  gin-and-water  (pro- 
longed cheering).  Buys  new  wooden  legs  now,  and 
drinks  nothing  but  water  and  weak  tea.  The  new 
legs  last  twice  as  long  as  the  others  used  to  do,  and  he 
attributes  this  solely  to  his  temperate  habits  (tri- 
umphant cheers).' 

Anthony  Humm  now  moved  that  the  assembly  do 
regale  itself  with  a  song.  With  a  view  to  their  ra- 
tional and  moral  enjoyment,  Brother  Mordlin  had 
adapted  the  beautiful  words  of  'Who  hasn't  heard 
of  a  Jolly  Young  Waterman?'  to  the  tune  of  the  Old 
Hundredth,  which  he  would  request  them  to  join  him 
in  singing  ( great  applause) .  He  might  take  that  op- 
portunity of  expressing  his  firm  persuasion  that  the 
late  Mr.  Dibdin,  seeing  the  errors  of  his  former  life, 
had  written  that  song  to  show  the  advantages  of  ab- 
stinence. It  was  a  temperance  song  (whirlwinds  of 
cheers).  The  neatness  of  the  young  man's  attire, 
the  dexterity  of  his  feathering,  the  enviable  state  of 
mind  which  enabled  him,  in  the  beautiful  words  of 
the  poet,  to 

'Row  along,  thinking  of  nothing  at  all/ 


74  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

all  combined  to  prove  that  he  must  have  been  a  water- 
drinker  (cheers).  Oh,  what  a  state  of  virtuous  jol- 
lityl  (rapturous  cheering).  And  what  was  the 
young  man's  reward?  Let  all  young  men  present 
mark  this — 

'The  maidens  all  flock'd  to  his  boat  so  readily/ 

(Loud  cheers,  in  which  the  ladies  joined.)  What  a 
bright  example!  The  sisterhood,  the  maidens,  flock- 
ing round  the  young  waterman,  and  urging  him 
along  the  stream  of  duty  and  of  temperanceo  But, 
was  it  the  maidens  of  humble  life  only,  who  soothed, 
consoled,  and  supported  him?  No  I 

'He  was  always  first  oars  with  the  fine  city  ladies.' 

(Immense  cheering.)  The  soft  sex  to  a  man — he 
begged  pardon,  to  a  female — rallied  round  the  young 
waterman,  and  turned  with  disgust  from  'the  drinker 
of  spirits  (cheers).  The  Brick  Lane  Branch  broth- 
ers were  watermen  (cheers  and  laughter).  That 
room  was  their  boat ;  that  audience  were  the  maidens ; 
and  he  (Mr.  Anthony  Humm),  however  unworthily, 
was  'first  oars'  (unbounded  applause). 

'Wot  does  he  mean  by  the  soft  sex,  Sammy?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller,  in  a  whisper. 

'The  womin,'  said  Sam,  in  the  same  tone. 

'He  ain't  far  out  there,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller;  'they  must  be  a  soft  sex, — a  wery  soft  sex, 
indeed — if  they  let  themselves  be  gammoned  by  such 
fellers  as  him.' 

Any  further  observations  from  the  indignant  old 
gentleman  were  cut  short  by  the  announcement  of  the 
song,  which  Mr.  Anthony  Humm  gave  out,  two  lines 
at  a  time,  for  the  information  of  such  of  his  hearers 
as  were  unacquainted  with  the  legend.  While  it  was 
being  sung,  the  little  man  with  the  drab  shorts  dis- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  75 

appeared;  he  returned  immediately  on  its  conclusion, 
and  whispered  Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  with  a  face  of 
the  deepest  importance. 

'My  friends,'  said  Mr.  Humm,  holding  up  his 
hand  in  a  deprecatory  manner,  to  bespeak  the  silence 
of  such  of  the  stout  old  ladies  as  were  yet  a  line  or  two 
behind;  'my  friends,  a  delegate  from  the  Dorking 
branch  of  our  society,  Brother  Stiggins,  attends  be- 
low.' 

Out  came  the  pocket-handkerchiefs  again,  in 
greater  force  than  ever;  for  Mr.  Stiggins  was  ex- 
cessively popular  among  the  female  constituency  of 
Brick  Lane. 

'He  may  approach,  I  think/  said  Mr.  Humm,  look- 
ing round  him,  with  a  fat  smile.  'Brother  Tadger, 
let  him  come  forth  and  greet  us.' 

The  little  man  in  the  drab  shorts  who  answered  to 
the  name  of  Brother  Tadger,  bustled  down  the  ladder 
with  great  speed,  and  was  immediately  afterwards 
heard  tumbling  up  with  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins. 

'He  Js  a  comin',  Sammy/  whispered  Mr.  Weller, 
purple  in  the  countenance  with  suppressed  laughter. 

"Don't  say  nothin'  to  me/  replied  Sam,  'for  I  can't 
bear  it.  He 's  close  to  the  door.  I  hear  him  a 
knockin'  his  head  again'  the  lath  and  plaster  now.' 

As  Sam  Weller  spoke,  the  little  door  flew  open, 
and  Brother  Tadger  appeared,  closely  followed  by 
the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins,  who  no  sooner  entered, 
than  there  was  a  great  clapping  of  hands,  and  stamp- 
ing of  feet,  and  flourishing  of  handkerchiefs;  to  all 
of  which  manifestations  of  delight,  Brother  Stig- 
gins returned  no  other  acknowledgment  than  staring 
with  a  wild  eye,  and  a  fixed  smile,  at  the  extreme  top 
of  the  wick  of  the  candle  on  the  table:  swaying  his 
body  to  and  fro,  meanwhile,  in  a  very  unsteady  and 
uncertain  manner. 


76  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Are  you  unwell,  Brother  Stiggins  ?'  whispered  Mr. 
Anthony  Humm. 

'I  am  all  right,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  a  tone 
in  which  ferocity  was  blended  with  an  extreme  thick- 
ness of  utterance;  'I  am  all  right,  sir.' 

'Oh,  very  well,'  rejoined  Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  re- 
treating a  few  paces. 

'I  believe  no  man  here,  has  ventured  to  say  that  I 
am  not  all  right,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

'Oh,  certainly  not,'  said  Mr.  Humm. 

'I  should  advise  him  not  to,  sir ;  I  should  advise  him 
not,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

By  this  time  the  audience  were  perfectly  silent,  and 
waited  with  some  anxiety  for  the  resumption  of  busi- 
ness. 

'Will  you  address  the  meeting,  brother?'  said  Mr. 
Humm,  with  a  smile  of  invitation. 

'No,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr.  Stiggins;  'no,  sir.  I  will 
not,  sir.' 

The  meeting  looked  at  each  other  with  raised  eye- 
lids; and  a  murmur  of  astonishment  ran  through  the 
room. 

'It 's  my  opinion,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  unbutton- 
ing his  coat,  and  speaking  very  loudly ;  'it 's  my  opin- 
ion, sir,  that  this  meeting  is  drunk,  sir.  Brother 
Tadger,  sir!'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  suddenly  increasing 
in  ferocity,  and  turning  sharp  round  on  the  little  man 
in  the  drab  shorts,  'you  are  drunk,  sir!'  With  this, 
Mr.  Stiggins,  entertaining  a  praiseworthy  desire  to 
promote  the  sobriety  of  the  meeting,  and  to  exclude 
therefrom  all  improper  characters,  hit  Brother  Tadger 
on  the  summit  of  the  nose  with  such  unerring  aim, 
that  the  drab  shorts  disappeared  like  a  flash  of  light- 
ning. Brother  Tadger  had  been  knocked,  head  first, 
down  the  ladder. 

Upon  this,  the  women  set  up  a  loud  and  dismal 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  77 

screaming;  and  rushing  in  small  parties  before  their 
favourite  brothers,  flung  their  arms  around  them  to 
preserve  them  from  danger.  An  instance  of  affec- 
tion, which  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  Humm,  who, 
being  extremely  popular,  was  all  but  suffocated  by 
the  crQwd  of  female  devotees  that  hung  about  his 
neck,  and  heaped  caresses  upon  him.  The  greater 
part  of  the  lights  were  quickly  put  out,  and  nothing 
but  noise  and  confusion  resounded  on  all  sides. 

'Now,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  off  his 
great-coat  with  much  deliberation,  'just  you  step  out, 
and  fetch  in  a  watchman.' 

'And  wot  are  you  a  goin'  to  do,  the  while?'  inquired 
Sam. 

'Never  you  mind  me,  Sammy,'  replied  the  old  gen- 
tleman; 'I  shall  ockipy  myself  in  havin'  a  small  set- 
tlement with  that  'ere  Stiggins.'  Before  Sam  could 
interfere  to  prevent  it,  his  heroic  parent  had  pene- 
trated into  a  remote  corner  of  the  room,  and  attacked 
the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  with  manual  dexterity. 

'Come  off!'  said  Sam. 

'Come  on!'-  cried  Mr.  Weller;  and  without  further 
invitation  he  gave  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  a  pre- 
liminary tap  on  the  head,  and  began  dancing  round 
him  in  a  buoyant  and  cork-like  manner,  which  in  a  gen- 
tleman at  his  time  of  life  was  a  perfect  marvel  to  be- 
hold. 

Finding  all  remonstrance  unavailing,  Sam  pulled 
his  hat  firmly  on,  threw  his  father's  coat  over  his  arm, 
and  taking  the  old  man  round  the  waist,  forcibly 
dragged  him  down  the  ladder,  and  into  the  street; 
never  releasing  his  hold,  or  permitting  him  to  stop, 
until  they  reached  the  corner.  As  they  gained  it, 
they  could  hear  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  who  were 
witnessing  the  removal  of  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins 
to  strong  lodgings  for  the  night:  and  could  hear  the 


78  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

noise  occasioned  by  the  dispersion  in  various  direc- 
tions of  the  members  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  of  the 
United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer  Temperance  As- 
sociation. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

WHOLLY  DEVOTED  TO  A  FULL  AND  FAITHFUL  REPORT 
OF  THE  MEMORABLE  TRIAL  OF  BARDELL  AGAINST 
PICKWICK 

'I  WONDER  what  the  foreman  of  the  jury,  whoever 
he  '11  be,  has  got  for  breakfast,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
by  way  of  keeping  up  a  conversation  on  the  eventful 
morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  February. 

'Ah!'  said  Perker,  'I  hope  he  's  got  a  good  one.' 

'Why  so?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Highly  important;  very  important,  my  dear  sir,' 
replied  Perker.  'A  good,  contented,  well-break- 
fasted juryman  is  a  capital  thing  to  get  hold  of. 
Discontented  or  hungry  jurymen,  my.  dear  sir,  al- 
ways find  for  the  plaintiff.' 

'Bless  my  heart,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  very 
blank;  'what  do  they  do  that  for?' 

'Why,  I  don't  know,'  replied  the  little  man,  coolly; 
'saves  time,  I  suppose.  If  it 's  near  dinner-time,  the 
foreman  takes  out  his  watch  when  the  jury  has  re- 
tired, and  says,  "Dear  me,  gentlemen,  ten  minutes  to 
five,  I  declare!  I  dine  at  five,  gentlemen."  "So  do 
I,"  says  everybody  else,  except  two  men  who  ought  to 
have  dined  at  three,  and  seem  more  than  half  dis- 
posed to  stand  out  in  consequence.  The  foreman 
smiles,  and  puts  up  his  watch:— -"Well,  gentlemen, 
what  do  we  say,  plaintiff  or  defendant,  gentlemen? 
I  rather  think,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  gentlemen, — • 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  79 

I  say,  I  rather  think, — but  don't  let  that  influence 
you — I  rather  think  the  plaintiff's  the  man."  Upon 
this,  two  or  three  other  men  are  sure  to  say  that  they 
think  so  too — as  of  course  they  do ;  and  then  they  get 
on  very  unanimously  and  comfortably.  Ten  min- 
utes past  nine!'  said  the  little  man,  looking  at  his 
watch.  'Time  we  were  off,  my  dear  sir;  breach  of 
promise  trial — court  is  generally  full  in  such  cases. 
You  had  better  ring  for  a  coach,  my  dear  sir,  or  we 
shall  be  rather  late.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  immediately  rang  the  bell;  and  a 
coach  having  been  procured,  the  four  Pickwickians 
and  Mr.  Perker  ensconced  themselves  therein,  and 
drove  to  Guildhall;  Sam  Weller,  Mr.  Lowten,  and 
the  blue  bag,  following  in  a  cab. 

'Lowten,'  said  Perker,  when  they  reached  the  outer 
hall  of  the  court,  'put  Mr.  Pickwick's  friends  in  the 
students'  box ;  Mr.  Pickwrick  himself  had  better  sit  by 
me.  This  way,  my  dear  sir,  this  way.'  Taking  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  coat-sleeve,  the  little  man  led  him  to 
the  low  seat  just  beneath  the  desks  of  the  King's 
Counsel,  which  is  constructed  for  the  convenience  of 
attorneys,  who  from  that  spot  can  whisper  into  the 
ear  of  the  leading  counsel  in  the  case,  any  instruc- 
tions that  may  be  necessary  during  the  progress  of 
the  trial.  The  occupants  of  this  seat  are  invisible  to 
the  great  body  of  spectators,  inasmuch  as  they  sit 
on  a  much  lower  level  than  either  the  barristers  or  the 
audience,  whose  seats  are  raised  above  the  floor.  Of 
course  they  have  their  backs  to  both,  and  their  faces 
towards  the  judge. 

'That 's  the  witness-box,  I  suppose?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
Mick,  pointing  to  a  kind  of  pulpit,  with  a  brass  rail, 
on  his  left  hand. 

'That's  the  witness-box,  my  dear  sir,'  replied 
Perker,  disinterring  a  quantity  of  papers  from  the 


80  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

blue  bag,  which  Lowten  had  just  deposited  at  his 
feet. 

'And  that/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pointing  to  a  couple 
of  enclosed  seats  on  his  right,  'that 's  where  the  jury- 
men sit,  is  it  not?' 

'The  identical  place,  my  dear  sir,'  replied  Perker, 
tapping  the  lid  of  his  snuff-box. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  up  in  a  state  of  great  agita- 
tion, and  took  a  glance  at  the  court.  There  were  al- 
ready a  pretty  large  sprinkling  of  spectators  in  the 
gallery,  and  a  numerous  muster  of  gentlemen  in  wigs, 
in  the  barristers'  seats:  who  presented,  as  a  body,  all 
that  pleasing  and  extensive  variety  of  nose  and 
whisker  for  which  the  bar  of  England  is  so  justly 
celebrated.  Such  of  the  gentlemen  as  had  a  brief  to 
carry,  carried  it  in  as  conspicuous  a  manner  as  possi- 
ble, and  occasionally  scratched  their  noses  therewith, 
to  impress  the  fact  more  strongly  on  the  observation 
of  the  spectators.  Other  gentlemen,  who  had  no 
briefs  to  show,  carried  under  their  arms  goodly 
octavos,  with  a  red  label  behind,  and  that  under-done- 
pie-crust-coloured  cover,  which  is  technically  known 
as  'law  calf/  Others,  who  had  neither  briefs  nor 
books,  thrust  their  hands  into  their  pockets,  and 
looked  as  wise  as  they  conveniently  could;  others, 
again,  moved  here  and  there  with  great  restlessness 
and  earnestness  of  manner,  content  to  awaken  thereby 
the  admiration  and  astonishment  of  the  uninitiated 
strangers.  The  whole,  to  the  great  wonderment  of 
Mr.  Pickwick,  were  divided  into  little  groups,  who 
were  chatting  and  discussing  the  news  of  the  day  in 
the  most  unfeeling  manner  possible, — just  as  if  no 
trial  at  all  were  coming  on. 

A  bow  from  Mr.  Phunky,  as  he  entered,  and  took 
his  seat  behind  the  row  appropriated  to  the  King's 
Counsel,  attracted  Mr.  Pickwick's  attention;  and  he 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  81 

had  scarcely  returned  it,  when  Mr.  Serjeant  Snub- 
bin  appeared,  followed  by  Mr.  Mallard,  who  half  hid 
the  Serjeant  behind  a  large  crimson  bag,  which  he 
placed  on  his  table,  and,  after  shaking  hands  with 
Perker,  withdrew.  Then  there  entered  two  or  three 
more  Serjeants;  and  among  them,  one  with  a  fat 
body  and  a  red  face,  who  nodded  in  a  friendly  man- 
ner to  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin,  and  said  it  was  a  fine 
morning. 

'Who  's  that  red-faced  man,  who  said  it  was  a  fine 
morning,  and  nodded  to  our  counsel?'  whispered  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,'  replied  Perker.  'He 's 
opposed  to  us ;  he  leads  on  the  other  side.  That  gen- 
tleman behind  him  is  Mr.  Skimpin,  his  junior.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  inquiring,  with 
great  abhorrence  of  the  man's  cold-blooded  villainy, 
how  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  who  was  counsel  for  the 
opposite  party,  dared  to  presume  to  tell  Mr.  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin,  who  was  counsel  for  him,  that  it  was 
a  fine  morning,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  gen- 
eral rising  of  the  barristers,  and  a  loud  cry  of 
'Silence!'  from  the  officers  of  the  court.  Looking 
round,  he  found  that  this  was  caused  by  the  entrance 
of  the  judge. 

Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  (who  sat  in  the  absence  of 
the  Chief  Justice,  occasioned  by  indisposition)  was  a 
most  particularly  short  man,  and  so  fat,  that  he  seemed 
all  face  and  waistcoat.  He  rolled  in,  upon  two  little 
turned  legs,  and  having  bobbed  gravely  to  the  bar, 
who  bobbed  gravely  to  him,  put  his  little  legs  under- 
neath his  table,  and  his  little  three-cornered  hat  upon 
it;  and  when  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  had  done  this,  all 
you  could  see  of  him  was  two  queer  little  eyes,  one 
broad  pink  face,  and  somewhere  about  half  of  a  big 
and  very  comical-looking 


82  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  judge  had  no  sooner  taken  his  seat,  than  the 
officer  on  the  floor  of  the  court  called  out  'Silence!'  in 
a  commanding  tone,  upon  which  another  officer  in  the 
gallery  cried  'Silence!'  in  an  angry  manner,  where- 
upon three  or  four  more  ushers  shouted  'Silence!'  in 
a  voice  of  indignant  remonstrance.  This  being  done, 
a  gentleman  in  black,  who  sat  below  the  judge,  pro- 
ceeded to  call  over  the  names  of  the  jury;  and  after  a 
great  deal  of  bawling,  it  was  discovered  that  only  ten 
special  jurymen  were  present.  Upon  this,  Mr.  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz  prayed  a  tales;  the  gentleman  in  black 
then  proceeded  to  press  into  the  special  jury,  two  of 
the  common  jurymen;  and  a  greengrocer  and  a 
chemist  were  caught  directly. 

'Answer  to  your  names,  gentlemen,  that  you  may 
be  sworn,'  said  the  gentleman  in  black.  'Richard  Up- 
witch.' 

'Here,'  said  the  greengrocer. 

'Thomas  Groffin.' 

'Here,'  said  the  chemist. 

'Take  the  book,  gentlemen.  You  shall  well  and 
truly  try — ' 

'I  beg  this  court's  pardon,'  said  the  chemist,  who 
was  a  tall,  thin,  yellow-visaged  man,  'but  I  hope  this 
court  will  excuse  my  attendance.' 

'On  what  grounds,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh. 

'I  have  no  assistant,  my  Lord,'  said  the  chemist. 

'I  can't  help  that,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Justice  Stare- 
leigh. 'You  should  hire  one.' 

'I  can't  afford  it,  my  Lord,'  rejoined  the  chemist. 

'Then  you  ought  to  be  able  to  afford  it,  sir,'  said 
the  judge,  reddening;  for  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh's 
temper  bordered  on  the  irritable,  and  brooked  not  con- 
tradiction. 

'I  know  I  ought  to  do,  if  I  got  on  as  well  as  I 
deserved,  but  I  don't,  my  Lord,'  answered  the  chemist. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  83 

'Swear  the  gentleman/  said  the  judge,  peremptorily. 

The  officer  had  got  no  further  than  the  'You  shall 
well  and  truly  try,'  when  he  was  again  interrupted  by 
the  chemist. 

'I  am  to  be  sworn,  my  Lord,  am  I  ?'  said  the  chemist. 

'Certainly,  sir,'  replied  the  testy  little  judge. 

'Very  well,  my  Lord,'  replied  the  chemist,  in  a  re- 
signed manner.  'Then  there  '11  be  murder  before  this 
trial 's  over ;  that 's  all.  Swear  me,  if  you  please,  sir' ; 
and  sworn  the  chemist  was,  before  the  judge  could 
find  words  to  utter. 

'I  merely  wanted  to  observe,  my  Lord,'  said  the 
chemist,  taking  his  seat  with  great  deliberation,  'that 
I  Ve  left  nobody  but  an  errand-boy  in  my  shop.  He 
is  a  very  nice  boy,  my  Lord,  but  he  is  not  acquainted 
with  drugs;  and  I  know  that  the  prevailing  impres- 
sion on  his  mind  is,  that  Epsom  salts  means  oxalic 
acid ;  and  syrup  of  senna,  laudanum.  That 's  all,  my 
Lord.'  With  this,  the  tall  chemist  composed  himself 
into  a  comfortable  attitude,  and,  assuming  a  pleasant 
expression  of  countenance,  appeared  to  have  prepared 
himself  for  the  worst. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  regarding  the  chemist  with  feel- 
ings of  the  deepest  horror,  when  a  slight  sensation 
was  perceptible  in  the  body  of  the  court;  and  imme- 
diately afterwards  Mrs.  Bardell,  supported  by  Mrs. 
Cluppins,  was  led  in,  and  placed,  in  a  drooping  state, 
at  the  other  end  of  the  seat  on  which  Mr.  Pickwick 
sat.  An  extra-sized  umbrella  was  then  handed  in 
by  Mr.  Dodson,  and  a  pair  of  pattens  by  Mr.  Fogg, 
each  of  whom  had  prepared  a  most  sympathising  and 
melancholy  face  for  the  occasion.  Mrs.  Sanders 
then  appeared,  leading  in  Master  Bardell.  At  sight 
of  her  child,  Mrs.  Bardell  started;  suddenly  recol- 
lecting herself,  she  kissed  him  in  a  frantic  manner; 
then  relapsing  into  a  state  of  hysterical  imbecility, 


84  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  good  lady  requested  to  be  informed  where  she 
was.  In  reply  to  this,  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs. 
Sanders  turned  their  heads  away  and  wept,  while 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  entreated  the  plaintiff  to 
compose  herself.  Serjeant  Buzfuz  rubbed  his  eyes 
very  hard  with  a  large  white  handkerchief,  and  gave 
an  appealing  look  towards  the  jury,  while  the  judge 
was  visibly  affected,  and  several  of  the  beholders 
tried  to  cough  down  their  emotions. 

'Very  good  notion  that,  indeed,'  whispered  Perker 
to  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Capital  fellows  those  Dodson  and 
Fogg;  excellent  ideas  of  effect,  my  dear  sir,  excel- 
lent.' 

As  Perker  spoke,  Mrs.  Bardell  began  to  recover 
by  slow  degrees,  while  Mrs.  Cluppins,  after  a  care- 
ful survey  of  Master  Bardell's  buttons  and  the  but- 
ton-holes to  which  they  severally  belonged,  placed 
him  on  the  floor  of  the  court  in  front  of  his  mother, 
— a  commanding  position  in  which  he  could  not  fail 
to  awaken  the  full  commiseration  and  sympathy  of 
both  judge  and  jury.  This  was  not  done  without 
considerable  opposition,  and  many  tears,  on  the  part 
of  the  young  gentleman  himself,  who  had  certain  in- 
ward misgivings  that  the  placing  him  within  the  full 
glare  of  the  judge's  eye  was  only  a  formal  prelude 
to  his  being  immediately  ordered  away  for  instant 
execution,  or  for  transportation  beyond  the  seas,  dur- 
ing the  whole  term  of  his  natural  life,  at  the  very 
least. 

'Bardell  and  Pickwick,'  cried  the  gentleman  in 
black,  calling  on  the  case,  which  stood  first  on  the 
list. 

'I  am  for  the  plaintiff,  my  lord/  said  Mr.  Serjeant 
Buzfuz. 

'Who  is  with  you,  brother  Buzfuz?'  said  the  judge. 
Mr.  Skimpin  bowed,  to  intimate  that  he  was. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  85 

'I  appear  for  the  defendant,  my  Lord,'  said  Mr. 
Serjeant  S nubbin. 

'Anybody  with  you,  brother  Snubbin?'  inquired  the 
court. 

'Mr.  Phunky,  my  Lord,'  replied  Serjeant  Snubbin. 

'Serjeant  Buzfuz  and  Mr.  Skimpin  for  the  plain- 
tiff,' said  the  judge,  writing  down  the  names  in  his 
note-book,  and  reading  as  he  wrote;  'for  the  defend- 
ant, Serjeant  Snubbin  and  Mr.  Monkey.' 

'Beg  your  Lordship's  pardon,  Phunky.' 

'Oh,  very  good,'  said  the  judge;  'I  never  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  the  gentleman's  name  before.' 
Here  Mr.  Phunky  bowed  and  smiled,  and  the  judge 
bowed  and  smiled  too,  and  then  Mr.  Phunky,  blush- 
ing into  the  very  whites  of  his  eyes,  tried  to  look  as 
if  he  didn't  know  that  everybody  was  gazing  at  him: 
a  thing  which  no  man  ever  succeeded  in  doing  yet,  or 
in  all  reasonable  probability,  ever  will. 

'Go  on,'  said  the  judge. 

The  ushers  again  called  silence,  and  Mr.  Skimpin 
proceeded  to  'open  the  case';  and  the  case  appeared 
to  have  very  little  inside  it  when  he  had  opened  it, 
for  he  kept  such  particulars  as  he  knew,  completely  to 
himself,  and  sat  down,  after  a  lapse  of  three  minutes, 
leaving  the  jury  in  precisely  the  same  advanced  stage 
of  wisdom  as  they  were  in  before. 

Serjeant  Buzfuz  then  rose  with  all  the  majesty  and 
dignity  which  the  grave  nature  of  the  proceedings 
demanded,  and  having  whispered  to  Dodson,  and 
conferred  briefly  with  Fogg,  pulled  his  gown  over 
his  shoulders,  settled  his  wig,  and  addressed  the  jury. 

Serjeant  Buzfuz  began  by  saying,  that  never,  in 
the  whole  course  of  his  professional  experience — 
never,  from  the  very  first  moment  of  his  applying 
himself  to  the  study  and  practice  of  the  law — had 
he  approached  a  case  with  feelings  of  such  deep  emo- 


86  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tion,  or  with  such  a  heavy  sense  of  the  responsibility 
imposed  upon  him — a  responsibility,  he  would  say, 
which  he  could  never  have  supported,  were  he  not 
buoyed  up  and  sustained  by  a  conviction  so  strong 
that  it  amounted  to  positive  certainty  that  the  cause 
of  truth  and  justice,  or,  in  other  words,  the  cause 
of  his  much-injured  and  most  oppressed  client,  must 
prevail  with  the  high-minded  and  intelligent  dozen 
of  men  whom  he  now  saw  in  that  box  before  him. 

Counsel  usually  begin  in  this  way,  because  it  puts 
the  jury  on  the  very  best  terms  with  themselves,  and 
makes  them  think  what  sharp  fellows  they  must  be. 
A  visible  effect  was  produced  immediately;  several 
jurymen  beginning  to  take  voluminous  notes  with  the 
utmost  eagerness. 

'You  have  heard  from  my  learned  friend,  gentle- 
men,' continued  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  well  knowing  that, 
from  the  learned  friend  alluded  to,  the  gentlemen 
of  the  jury  had  heard  just  nothing  at  all — 'y°u  have 
heard  from  my  learned  friend,  gentlemen,  that  this  is 
an  action  for  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  in 
which  the  damages  are  laid  at  <£1500.  But  you  have 
not  heard  from  my  learned  friend,  inasmuch  as  it  did 
not  come  within  my  learned  friend's  province  to 
tell  you,  what  are  the  facts  and  circumstances  of  the 
case.  Those  facts  and  circumstances,  gentlemen, 
you  shall  hear  detailed  by  me,  and  proved  by  the  un- 
impeachable female  whom  I  will  place  in  that  box  be- 
fore you.' 

Here  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  with  a  tremendous 
emphasis  on  the  word  'box,'  smote  his  table  with  a 
mighty  sound,  and  glanced  at  Dodson  and  Fogg, 
who  nodded  admiration  of  the  Serjeant,  and  indig- 
nant defiance  of  the  defendant. 

'The  plaintiff,  gentlemen,'  continued  Serjeant  Buz- 
fuz, in  a  soft  and  melancholy  voice,  'the  plaintiff  is  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  87 

widow;  yes,  gentlemen,  a  widow.  The  late  Mr.  Bar- 
dell,  after  enjoying,  for  many  years,  the  esteem  and 
confidence  of  his  sovereign,  as  one  of  the  guardians 
of  his  royal  revenues,  glided  almost  imperceptibly 
from  the  world,  to  seek  elsewhere  for  that  repose  and 
peace  which  a  custom-house  can  never  afford.' 

At  this  pathetic  description  of  the  decease  of  Mr. 
Bardell,  who  had  been  knocked  on  the  head  with  a 
quart-pot  in  a  public-house  cellar,  the  learned  Ser- 
jeant's voice  faltered,  and  he  proceeded  with  emo- 
tion— 

'Some  time  before  his  death,  he  had  stamped  his 
likeness  upon  a  little  boy.  With  this  little  boy,  the 
only  pledge  of  her  departed  exciseman,  Mrs.  Bardell 
shrunk  from  the  world,  and  courted  the  retirement 
and  tranquillity  of  Goswell  Street;  and  here  she 
placed  in  her  front-parlour  window  a  written  placard, 
bearing  this  inscription — "Apartments  furnished  for 
a  single  gentleman.  Inquire  within."  Here  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz  paused,  while  several  gentlemen  of  the 
jury  took  a  note  of  the  document. 

'There  is  no  date  to  that,  is  there,  sir?'  inquired  a 
juror. 

'There  is  no  date,  gentlemen,'  replied  Serjeant  Buz- 
fuz; 'but  I  am  instructed  to  say  that  it  was  put  in 
the  plaintiff's  parlour-window  just  this  time  three 
years.  I  entreat  the  attention  of  the  jury  to  the 
wording  of  this  document.  "Apartments  furnished 
for  a  single  gentlemen" !  Mrs.  Bardell's  opinions  of 
the  opposite  sex,  gentlemen,  were  derived  from  a  long 
contemplation  of  the  inestimable  qualities  of  her  lost 
husband.  She  had  no  fear,  she  had  no  distrust,  she 
had  no  suspicion,  all  was  confidence  and  reliance. 
"Mr.  Bardell,"  said  the  widow;  "Mr.  Bardell  was  a 
man  of  honour,  Mr.  Bardell  was  a  man  of  his  word, 
Mr.  Bardell  was  no  deceiver,  Mr.  Bardell  was  once 


88  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

a  single  gentleman  himself;  to  single  gentlemen  I 
look  for  protection,  for  assistance,  for  comfort,  and 
for  consolation;  in  single  gentlemen  I  shall  per- 
petually see  something  to  remind  me  of  what  Mr. 
Bardell  was,  when  he  first  won  my  young  and  untried 
affections ;  to  a  single  gentleman,  then,  shall  my  lodg- 
ings be  let."  Actuated  by  this  beautiful  and  touch- 
ing impulse  (among  the  best  impulses  of  our  imper- 
fect nature,  gentlemen),  the  lonely  and  desolate 
widow  dried  her  tears,  furnished  her  first  floor, 
caught  the  innocent  boy  to  her  maternal  bosom,  and 
put  the  bill  up  in  her  parlour-window.  Did  it  re- 
main there  long?  No.  The  serpent  was  on  the 
watch,  the  train  was  laid,  the  mine  was  prepar- 
ing, the  sapper  and  miner  was  at  work.  Before  the 
bill  had  been  in  the  parlour-window  three  days- 
three  days — gentlemen — a  Being,  erect  upon  two 
legs,  and  bearing  all  the  outward  semblance  of  a 
man,  and  not  of  a  monster,  knocked  at  the  door  of 
Mrs.  Bardell's  house.  He  inquired  within;  he  took 
the  lodgings;  and  on  the  very  next  day  he  entered 
into  possession  of  them.  This  man  was  Pickwick- 
Pickwick,  the  defendant.' 

Serjeant  Buzfuz,  who  had  proceeded  with  such 
volubility  that  his  face  was  perfectly  crimson,  here 
paused  for  breath.  The  silence  awoke  Mr.  Justice 
Stareleigh,  who  immediately  wrote  down  something 
with  a  pen  without  any  ink  in  it,  and  looked  unusually 
profound,  to  impress  the  jury  with  the  belief  that  he 
always  thought  most  deeply  with  his  eyes  shut.  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz  proceeded. 

'Of  this  man  Pickwick  I  will  say  little;  the  subject 
presents  but  few  attractions;  and  I,  gentlemen,  am 
not  the  man,  nor  are  you,  gentlemen,  the  men,  to 
delight  in  the  contemplation  of  revolting  heartless- 
ness,  and  of  systematic  villainy.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  89 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  writhing  in 
silence  for  some  time,  gave  a  violent  start,  as  if  some 
vague  idea  of  assaulting  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  in  the 
august  presence  of  justice  and  law,  suggested  itself 
to  his  mind.  An  admonitory  gesture  from  Perker 
restrained  him,  and  he  listened  to  the  learned  gentle- 
man's continuation  with  a  look  of  indignation,  which 
contrasted  forcibly  with  the  admiring  faces  of  Mrs. 
Cluppins  and  Mrs.  Sanders. 

'I  say  systematic  villainy,  gentlemen,'  said  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz,  looking  through  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
talking  at  him;  'and  when  I  say  systematic  villainy, 
let  me  tell  the  defendant  Pickwick,  if  he  be  in  court, 
as  I  am  informed  he  is,  that  it  would  have  been  more 
decent  in  him,  more  becoming,  in  better  judgment, 
and  in  better  taste,  if  he  had  stopped  away.  Let  me 
tell  him,  gentlemen,  that  any  gestures  of  dissent  or 
disapprobation  in  which  he  may  indulge  in  this  court 
will  not  go  down  with  you;  that  you  will  know  how 
to  value  and  how  to  appreciate  them;  and  let  me  tell 
him  further,  as  my  Lord  will  tell  you,  gentlemen,  that 
a  counsel,  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  his  client,  is 
neither  to  be  intimidated  nor  bullied,  nor  put  down; 
and  that  any  attempt  to  do  either  the  one  of  the  other, 
or  the  first,  or  the  last,  will  recoil  on  the  head  of  the 
attempter,  be  he  plaintiff  or  be  he  defendant,  be  his 
name  Pickwick,  or  Noakes,  or  Stoakes,  or  Stiles,  or 
Brown,  or  Thompson.' 

This  little  divergence  from  the  subject  in  hand,  had 
of  course  the  intended  effect  of  turning  all  eyes  to 
Mr.  Pickwick.  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  having  partially 
recovered  from  the  state  of  moral  elevation  into  which 
he  had  lashed  himself,  resumed — 

'  I  shall  show  you,  gentlemen,  that  for  two  years 
Pickwick  continued  to  reside  constantly,  and  without 
interruption  or  intermission,  at  Mrs.  Bardell's  house. 


90  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

I  shall  show  you  that  Mrs.  Bardell,  during  the  whole 
of  that  time,  waited  on  him,  attended  to  his  comforts, 
cooked  his  meals,  looked  out  his  linen  for  the  washer- 
woman when  it  went  abroad,  darned,  aired,  and  pre- 
pared it  for  wear,  when  it  came  home,  and,  in  short, 
enjoyed  his  fullest  trust  and  confidence.  I  shall 
show  you  that,  on  many  occasions,  he  gave  halfpence, 
and  on  some  occasions  even  sixpences,  to  her  little 
boy;  and  I  shall  prove  to  you,  by  a  witness  whose 
testimony  it  will  be  impossible  for  my  learned  friend 
to  weaken  or  controvert,  that  on  one  occasion  he 
patted  the  boy  on  the  head,  and,  after  inquiring 
whether  he  had  won  any  alley  tors  or  commoneys 
lately  (both  of  which  I  understand  to  be  a  particular 
species  of  marbles  much  prized  by  the  youth  of  this 
town),  made  use  of  this  remarkable  expression: 
"How  should  you  like  to  have  another  father?"  I 
shall  prove  to  you,  gentlemen,  that  about  a  year  ago, 
Pickwick  suddenly  began  to  absent  himself  from 
home,  during  long  intervals,  as  if  with  the  intention 
of  gradually  breaking  off  from  my  client;  but  I 
shall  show  you  also,  that  his  resolution  was  not  at 
that  time  sufficiently  strong,  or  that  his  better  feelings 
conquered,  if  better  feelings  he  has,  or  that  the  charms 
and  accomplishments  of  my  client  prevailed  against 
his  unmanly  intentions;  by  proving  to  you,  that  on 
one  occasion,  when  he  returned  from  the  country, 
he  distinctly  and  in  terms,  offered  her  marriage: 
previously,  however,  taking  special  care  that  there 
should  be  no  witness  to  their  solemn  contract;  and  I 
am  in  a  situation  to  prove  to  you,  on  the  testimony 
of  three  of  his  own  friends, — most  unwilling  wit- 
nesses, gentlemen — most  unwilling  witnesses — that  on 
that  morning  he  was  discovered  by  them  holding  the 
plaintiff  in  his  arms,  and  soothing  her  agitation  by 
his  caresses  and  endearments.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  91 

A  visible  impression  was  produced  upon  the 
auditors  by  this  part  of  the  learned  Serjeant's  ad- 
dress. Drawing  forth  two  very  small  scraps  of 
paper,  he  proceeded — 

'And  now,  gentlemen,  but  one  word  more.  Two 
letters  have  passed  between  these  parties,  letters 
which  are  admitted  to  be  in  the  handwriting  of  the 
defendant,  and  which  speak  volumes  indeed.  These 
letters,  too,  bespeak  the  character  of  the  man.  They 
are  not  open,  fervent,  eloquent  epistles,  breathing 
nothing  but  the  language  of  affectionate  attachment. 
They  are  covert,  sly,  underhanded  communications, 
but,  fortunately,  far  more  conclusive  than  if  couched 
in  the  most  glowing  language  and  the  most  poetic 
imagery — letters  that  must  be  viewed  with  a  cautious 
and  suspicious  eye — letters  that  were  evidently  in- 
tended at  the  time,  by  Pickwick,  to  mislead  and  de- 
lude any  third  parties  into  whose  hands  they  might 
fall.  Let  me  read  the  first: — "Garraway's,  twelve 
o'clock.  Dear  Mrs.  B. — Chops  and  Tomata  sauce. 
Yours,  PICKWICK/'  Gentlemen,  what  does  this 
mean?  Chops  and  Tomata  sauce.  Yours,  Pickwick! 
Chops!  Gracious  heavens!  and  Tomata  sauce! 
Gentlemen,  is  the  happiness  of  a  sensitive  and  con- 
fiding female  to  be  trifled  away  by  such  shallow  arti- 
fices as  these?  The  next  has  no  date  whatever, 
which  is  in  itself  suspicious.  "Dear  Mrs.  B.,  I  shall 
not  be  at  home  til]  to-morrow.  Slow  coach."  And 
then  follows  this  very  remarkable  expression.  "Don't 
trouble  yourself  about  the  warming-pan."  The 
warming-pan!  Why,  gentlemen,  who  does  trouble 
himself  about  a  warming-pan?  When  was  the  peace 
of  mind  of  man  or  woman  broken  or  disturbed  by  a 
warming-pan,  which  is  in  itself  a  harmless,  a  useful, 
and  I  will  add,  gentlemen,  a  comforting  article  of 
domestic  furniture?  Why  is  Mrs.  Bardell  so 


92  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

earnestly  entreated  not  to  agitate  herself  about  this 
warming-pan,  unless  (as  is  no  doubt  the  case)  it  is 
a  mere  cover  for  hidden  fire — a  mere  substitute  for 
some  endearing  word  or  promise,  agreeably  to  a  pre- 
concerted system  of  correspondence,  artfully  con- 
trived by  Pickwick  with  a  view  to  his  contemplated 
desertion,  and  which  I  am  not  in  a  condition  to  ex- 
plain? And  what  does  this  allusion  to  the  slow  coach 
mean?  For  aught  I  know,  it  may  be  a  reference  to 
Pickwick  himself,  who  has  most  unquestionably  been 
a  criminally  slow  coach  during  the  whole  of  this 
transaction,  but  whose  speed  will  now  be  very  un- 
expectedly accelerated,  and  whose  wheels,  gentlemen, 
as  he  will  find  to  his  cost,  will  very  soon  be  greased 
by  you!' 

Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz  paused  in  this  place,  to  see 
whether  the  jury  smiled  at  his  joke;  but  as  nobody 
took  it  but  the  greengrocer,  whose  sensitiveness  on 
the  subject  was  very  probably  occasioned  by  his  hav- 
ing subjected  a  chaise-cart  to  the  process  in  question 
on  that  identical  morning,  the  learned  Serjeant  con- 
sidered it  advisable  to  undergo  a  slight  relapse  into 
the  dismals  before  he  concluded. 

'But  enough  of  this,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Serjeant 
Buzfuz,  'it  is  difficult  to  smile  with  an  aching  heart; 
it  is  ill  jesting  when  our  deepest  sympathies  are  awak- 
ened. My  client's  hopes  and  prospects  are  ruined, 
and  it  is  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  her  occupation 
is  gone  indeed.  The  bill  is  down — but  there  is  no 
tenant.  Eligible  single  gentlemen  pass  and  repass 
— but  there  is  no  invitation  for  them  to  inquire  within 
or  without.  All  is  gloom  and  silence  in  the  house; 
even  the  voice  of  the  child  is  hushed ;  his  infant  sports 
are  disregarded  when  his  mother  weeps;  his  "alley 
tors"  and  his  "commoneys"  are  alike  neglected;  he 
forgets  the  long  familiar  cry  of  "knuckle  down,"  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  93 

at  tip-cheese,  or  odd  and  even,  his  hand  is  out.  But 
Pickwick,  gentleman,  Pickwick,  the  ruthless  destroyer 
of  this  domestic  oasis  in  the  desert  of  Goswell 
Street — Pickwick,  who  has  choked  up  the  well,  and 
thrown  ashes  on  the  sward — Pickwick,  who  comes 
before  you  to-day  with  his  heartless  Tomata  sauce  and 
warming-pans — Pickwick  still  rears  his  head  with  un- 
blushing effrontery,  and  gazes  without  a  sigh  on  the 
ruin  he  has  made.  Damages,  gentlemen — heavy 
damages — is  the  only  punishment  with  which  you  can 
visit  him;  the  only  recompense  you  can  award  to  my 
client.  And  for  those  damages  she  now  appeals  to 
an  enlightened,  a  high-minded,  a  right-feeling,  a  con- 
scientious, a  dispassionate,  a  sympathising,  a  con- 
templative jury  of  her  civilised  countrymen.'  With 
this  beautiful  peroration,  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz  sat 
down,  and  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  woke  up. 

'Call  Elizabeth  Cluppins,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz, 
rising  a  minute  afterwards,  with  renewed  vigour. 

The  nearest  usher  called  for  Elizabeth  Tuppins; 
another  one,  at  a  little  distance  off,  demanded  Eliza- 
beth Jupkins ;  and  a  third  rushed  in  a  breathless  state 
into  King  Street,  and  screamed  for  Elizabeth  Muffins 
till  he  was  hoarse. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  the  combined  as- 
sistance of  Mrs.  Bardell,  Mrs.  Sanders,  Mr.  Dodson, 
and  Mr.  Fogg,  was  hoisted  into  the  witness-box ;  and 
when  she  was  safely  perched  on  the  top  step,  Mrs. 
Bardell  stood  on  the  bottom  one,  with  the  pocket 
handkerchief  and  pattens  in  one  hand,  and  a  glass 
bottle  that  might  hold  about  a  quarter  of  a  pint  of 
smelling  salts  in  the  other,  ready  for  any  emergency. 
Mrs.  Sanders,  whose  eyes  were  intently  fixed  on  the 
judge's  face,  planted  herself  close  by,  with  the  large 
umbrella:  keeping  her  right  thumb  pressed  on  the 
spring  with  an  earnest  countenance,  as  if  she  were 


94  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

fully  prepared  to  put  it  up  at  a  moment's  notice. 

'Mrs.  Cluppins,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  'pray  com- 
pose yourself,  ma'am.'  Of  course,  directly  Mrs. 
Cluppins  was  desired  to  compose  herself  she  sobbed 
with  increased  vehemence,  and  gave  divers  alarming 
manifestations  of  an  approaching  fainting  fit,  or,  as 
she  afterwards  said,  of  her  feelings  being  too  many 
for  her. 

'Do  you  recollect,  Mrs.  Cluppins?'  said  Serjeant 
Buzfuz,  after  a  few  unimportant  questions,  'do  you 
recollect  being  in  Mrs.  Bardell's  back  one  pair  of 
stairs,  on  one  particular  morning  in  July  last,  when 
she  was  dusting  Pickwick's  apartment?' 

'Yes,  my  Lord  and  Jury,  I  do,'  replied  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins. 

'Mr.  Pickwick's  sitting-room  was  the  first-floor 
front,  I  believe?' 

'Yes,  it  were,  sir/  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'What  were  you  doing  in  the  back  room,  ma'am?' 
inquired  the  little  judge. 

'My  Lord  and  Jury,'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  in- 
teresting agitation,  'I  will  not  deceive  you.' 

'You  had  better  not,  ma'am,'  said  the  little  judge. 

'I  was  there,'  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins,  'unbeknown 
to  Mrs.  Bardell;  I  had  been  out  with  a  little  basket, 
gentlemen,  to  buy  three  pound  of  red  kidney  purta- 
ties  which  was  three  pound  tuppense  ha'penny,  when 
I  see  Mrs.  Bardell's  street  door  on  the  jar.' 

'On  the  what?'  exclaimed  the  little  judge. 

'Partly  open,  my  Lord,'  said  Serjeant  Snubbin. 

'She  said  on  the  jar,'  said  the  little  judge,  with  a 
cunning  look. 

'It's  all  the  same,  my  Lord,'  said  Serjeant  Snubbin. 
The  little  judge  looked  doubtful,  and  said  he'd  make 
a  note  of  it.  Mrs.  Cluppins  then  resumed — 

'I  walked  in,  gentlemen,  just  to  say  good  mornin', 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  95 

and  went,  in  a  permiscuous  manner,  upstairs,  and  into 
the  back  room.  Gentlemen,  there  was  the  sound  of 
voices  in  the  front  room,  and— 

'And  you  listened,  I  believe,  Mrs.  Cluppins?'  said 
Serjeant  Buzfuz. 

'Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir/  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
in  a  majestic  manner,  'I  would  scorn  the  haction. 
The  voices  was  very  loud,  sir,  and  forced  themselves 
upon  my  ear.' 

'Well,  Mrs.  Cluppins,  you  were  not  listening,  but 
you  heard  the  voices.  Was  one  of  those  voices,  Pick- 
wick's?' 

'Yes,  it  were,  sir.' 

And  Mrs.  Cluppins,  after  distinctly  stating  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  addressed  himself  to  Mrs.  Bardell,  re- 
peated, by  slow  degrees,  and  by  dint  of  many  ques- 
tions, the  conversation  with  which  our  readers  are 
already  acquainted. 

The  jury  looked  suspicious,  and  Mr.  Serjeant  Buz- 
fuz smiled  and  sat  down.  They  looked  positively 
awful  when  Serjeant  Snubbin  intimated  that  he 
should  not  cross-examine  the  witness,  for  Mr.  Pick- 
wick wished  it  to  be  distinctly  stated  that  it  was  due 
to  her  to  say,  that  her  account  was  in  substance  cor- 
rect. 

Mrs.  Cluppins  having  once  broken  the  ice,  thought 
it  a  favourable  opportunity  for  ente'ring  into  a  short 
dissertation  on  her  own  domestic  affairs;  so,  she 
straightway  proceeded  to  inform  the  court  that  she 
was  the  mother  of  eight  children  at  that  present  speak- 
ing, and  that  she  entertained  confident  expectations 
of  presenting  Mr.  Cluppins  with  a  ninth,  somewhere 
about  that  day  six  months.  At  this  interesting  point, 
the  little  judge  interposed  most  irascibly;  and  the 
eff ect  of  the  interposition  was,  that  both  the  worthy 
lady  and  Mrs.  Sanders  were  politely  taken  out  of 


96  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

court,  under  the  escort  of  Mr.  Jackson,  without 
further  parley. 

'Nathaniel  Winkle!'  said  Mr.  Skimpin. 

'Here !'  replied  a  feeble  voice.  Mr.  Winkle  entered 
the  witness-box,  and  having1  been  duly  sworn,  bowed 
to  the  judge  with  considerable  deference. 

'Don't  look  at  me,  sir,'  said  the  judge,  sharply,  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  salute;  'look  at  the  jury.' 

Mr.  Winkle  obeyed  the  mandate,  and  looked  at  the 
place  where  he  thought  it  most  probable  the  jury 
might  be;  for  seeing  anything  in  his  then  state  of 
intellectual  complication  was  wholly  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. 

Mr.  Winkle  was  then  examined  by  Mr.  Skimpin, 
r/ho,  being  a  promising  young  man  of  two  or  three 
and  forty,  was  of  course  anxious  to  confuse  a  witness 
who  was  notoriously  predisposed  in  favour  of  the 
other  side,  as  much  as  he  could. 

'Now,  sir/  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  'have  the  goodness  to 
let  his  Lordship  and  the  jury  know  what  your  name 
is,  will  you?'  and  Mr.  Skimpin  inclined  his  head  on 
one  side  to  listen  with  great  sharpness  to  the  answer, 
and  glanced  at  the  jury  meanwhile,  as  if  to  imply  that 
he  rather  expected  Mr.  Winkle's  natural  taste  for 
perjury  would  induce  him  to  give  some  name  which 
did  not  belong  to  him. 

'Winkle,'  replied  the  witness. 

'What 's  your  Christian  name,  sir?'  angrily  inquired 
the  little  judge. 

'Nathaniel,  sir.' 

'Daniel, — any  other  name?' 

'Nathaniel,  sir — my  Lord,  I  mean.' 

'Nathaniel  Daniel,  or  Daniel  Nathaniel?' 

'No,  my  Lord,  only  Nathaniel;  not  Daniel  at  all.' 

'What  did  you  tell  me  it  was  Daniel  for,  then,  sir?' 
inquired  the  judge. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  97 

'I  didn't,  my  Lord,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

'You  did,  sir,'  replied  the  judge,  with  a  severe 
frown.  'How  could  I  have  got  Daniel  on  my  notes, 
unless  you  told  me  so,  sir?' 

This  argument,  was,  of  course,  unanswerable. 

'Mr.  Winkle  has  rather  a  short  memory,  my  Lord,' 
interposed  Mr.  Skimpin,  with  another  glance  at  the 
jury.  'We  shall  find  means  to  refresh  it  before  we 
have  quite  done  with  him,  I  dare  say.' 

'You  had  better  be  careful,  sir,'  said  the  little  judge, 
with  a  sinister  look  at  the  witness. 

Poor  Mr.  Winkle  bowed,  and  endeavoured  to  feign 
an  easiness  of  manner,  which,  in  his  then  state  of  con- 
fusion, gave  him  rather  the  air  of  a  disconcerted  pick- 
pocket. 

'Now,  Mr.  Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  'attend  to 
me,  if  you  please,  sir;  and  let  me  recommend  you, 
for  your  own  sake,  to  bear  in  mind  his  Lordship's 
injunction  to  be  careful.  I  believe  you  are  a  par- 
ticular friend  of  Pickwick,  the  defendant,  are  you 
not?' 

'I  have  known  Mr.  Pickwick  now,  as  well  as  I 
recollect  at  this  moment,  nearly — ' 

'Pray,  Mr.  Winkle,  do  not  evade  the  question. 
Are  you,  or  are  you  not,  a  particular  friend  of  the 
defendant's  ?' 

'I  was  just  about  to  say,  that — 

'Will  you,  or  will  you  not,  answer  my  question, 
sir?' 

'If  you  don't  answer  the  question  you  '11  be  com- 
mitted", sir,'  interposed  the  little  judge,  looking  over 
his  note-book. 

'Come,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  'yes  or  no,  if  you 
please.' 

'Yes,  I  am,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Yes,  you  are.     And  why  couldn't  you  say  that  at 


98  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

once,  sir  ?  Perhaps  you  know  the  plaintiff,  too  ?  Eh, 
Mr.  Winkle?' 

'I  don't  know  her;  I  've  seen  her.' 

'Oh,  you  don't  know  her,  but  you  Ve  seen  her? 
Now,  have  the  goodness  to  tell  the  gentlemen  of  the 
jury  what  you  mean  by  that.,  Mr.  Winkle.' 

'I  mean  that  I  am  not  intimate  with  her,  but  I 
have  seen  her  when  I  went  to  call  on  Mr.  Pickwick  in 
Goswell  Street.' 

'How  often  have  you  seen  her,  sir?' 

'How  often?' 

'Yes,  Mr.  Winkle,  how  often?  I  '11  repeat  the 
question  for  you  a  dozen  times,  if  you  require  it,  sir.' 
And  the  learned  gentleman,  with  a  firm  and  steady 
frown  placed  his  hands  on  his  hips,  and  smiled  sus- 
piciously at  the  jury. 

On  this  question  there  arose  the  edifying  brow- 
beating, customary  on  such  points.  First  of  all,  Mr. 
Winkle  said  it  was  quite  impossible  for  him  to  say 
how  many  times  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Bardell.  Then  he 
was  asked  if  he  had  seen  her  twenty  times,  to  which 
he  replied,  'Certainly, — more  than  that.'  Then  he 
was  asked  whether  he  hadn't  seen  her  a  hundred  times 
— whether  he  couldn't  swear  that  he  had  seen  her  more 
than  fifty  times — whether  he  didn't  know  that  he  had 
seen  her  at  least  seventy-five  times — and  so  forth; 
the  satisfactory  conclusion  which  was  arrived  at,  at 
last,  being,  that  he  had  better  take  care  of  himself, 
and  mind  what  he  was  about.  The  witness  having 
been  by  these  means  reduced  to  the  requisite  ebb  of 
nervous  perplexity,  the  examination  was  continued  as 
follows : — • 

'Pray,  Mr.  Winkle,  do  you  remember  calling  on 
the  defendant  Pickwick  at  these  apartments  in  the 
plaintiff's  house  in  Goswell  Street,  on  one  particular 
morning,  in  the  month  of  July  last?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  99 

'Yes,  I  do.' 

'Were  you  accompanied  on  that  occasion  by  a  friend 
of  the  name  of  Tupman,  and  another  of  the  name  of 
Snodgrass?' 

'Yes,  I  was.' 

'Are  they  here?' 

'Yes,  they  are,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  looking  very 
earnestly  towards  the  spot  where  his  friends  were 
stationed. 

'Pray  attend  to  me,  Mr.  Winkle>  and  never  mind 
your  friends,'  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  with  another  expres- 
sive look  at  the  jury.  'They  must  tell  their  stories 
without  any  previous  consultation  with  you,  if  none 
has  yet  taken  place  (another  look  at  the  jury). 
Now,  sir,  tell  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  what  you 
saw  on  entering  the  defendant's  room,  on  this  partic- 
ular morning.  Come;  out  with  it,  sir;  we  must  have 
it,  sooner  or  later.' 

'The  defendant,  Mr.  Pickwick,  was  holding  the 
plaintiff  in  his  arms,  with  his  hands  clasping  her 
waist,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  with  natural  hesitation, 
"and  the  plaintiff  appeared  to  have  fainted  away.' 

'Did  you  hear  the  defendant  say  anything?' 

'I  heard  him  call  Mrs.  Bardell  a  good  creature,  and 
I  heard  him  ask  her  to  compose  herself,  for  what  a 
situation  it  was,  if  anybody  should  come,  or  words  to 
that  effect.' 

'Now,  Mr.  Winkle,  I  have  only  one  more  question 
to  ask  you,  and  I  beg  you  to  bear  in  mind  his  Lord- 
ship's caution.  Will  you  undertake  to  swear  that 
Pickwick,  the  defendant,  did  not  say  on  the  occasion 
in  question,  "My  dear  Mrs.  Bardell,  you're  a  good 
creature;  compose  yourself  to  this  situation,  for  to 
this  situation  you  must  come,"  or  words  to  that 
effect?' 

'I — I  didn't  understand  him  so,  certainly,'  said  Mr. 


100  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Winkle,  astounded  at  this  ingenious  dovetailing  of 
the  few  words  he  had  heard.  'I  was  on  the  staircase, 
and  couldn't  hear  distinctly;  the  impression  on  my 
mind  is— 

'The  gentlemen  of  the  jury  want  none  of  the  im- 
pressions on  your  mind,  Mr.  Winkle,  which  I  fear 
would  be  of  little  service  to  honest,  straightforward 
men,'  interposed  Mr.  Skimpin.  'You  were  on  the 
staircase,  and  didn't  distinctly  hear;  but  you  will  not 
swear  that  Pickwick  did  not  make  use  of  the  expres- 
sions I  have  quoted?  Do  I  understand  that?' 

'No,  I  will  not,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle ;  and  down  sat 
Mr.  Skimpin  with  a  triumphant  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  case  had  not  gone  off  in  so  par- 
ticularly happy  a  manner  up  to  this  point  that  it 
could  very  well  afford  to  have  any  additional  sus- 
picion cast  upon  it.  But  as  it  could  afford  to  be 
placed  in  a  rather  better  light,  if  possible,  Mr. 
Phunky  rose  for  the  purpose  of  getting  something 
important  out  of  Mr.  Winkle  in  cross-examination. 
Whether  he  did  get  anything  important  out  of  him, 
will  immediately  appear. 

'I  believe,  Mr.  Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Phunky,  'that 
Mr.  Pickwick  is  not  a  young  man  ?' 

'Oh  no,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle ;  'old  enough  to  be  my 
father.' 

'You  have  told  my  learned  friend  that  you  have 
known  Mr.  Pickwick  a  long  time.  Had  you  ever  any 
reason  to  suppose  or  believe  that  he  was  about  to  be 
married?' 

'Oh  no;  certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle  with 
so  much  eagerness,  that  Mr.  Phunky  ought  to  have 
got  him  out  of  the  box  with  all  possible  dispatch. 
Lawyers  hold  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  particularly 
bad  witnesses:  a  reluctant  witness,  and  a  too-willing 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  101 

witness;  it  was  Mr.  Winkle's  fate  to  figure  in  both 
characters. 

'I  will  even  go  further  than  this,  Mr.  Winkle,'  con- 
tinued Mr.  Phunky  in  a  most  smooth  and  complacent 
manner.  'Did  you  ever  see  anything  in  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's manner  and  conduct  towards  the  opposite  sex, 
to  induce  you  to  believe  that  he  ever  contemplated 
matrimony  of  late  years,  in  any  case?' 

'Oh  no;  certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Has  his  behaviour,  when  females  have  been  in  the 
case,  always  been  that  of  a  man,  who,  having  attained 
a  pretty  advanced  period  of  life,  content  with  his  own 
occupations  and  amusements,  treats  them  only  as  a 
father  might  his  daughters?' 

'Not  the  least  doubt  of  it,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  in 
the  fulness  of  his  heart.  'That  is — yes — oh  yes — cer- 
tainly.' 

'You  have  never  known  anything  in  his  behaviour 
towards  Mrs.  Bardell,  or  any  other  female,  in  the 
least  degree  suspicious?'  said  Mr.  Phunky,  preparing 
to  sit  down;  for  Serjeant  Snubbin  was  winking  at 
him. 

'N — n — no,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  'except  on  one 
trifling  occasion,  which,  I  have  no  doubt,  might  be 
easily  explained.' 

Now,  if  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Phunky  had  sat  down 
when  Serjeant  Snubbin  winked  at  him,  or  if  Serjeant 
Buzfuz  had  stopped  this  irregular  cross-examination 
at  the  outset  (which  he  knew  better  than  to  do;  ob- 
serving Mr.  Winkle's  anxiety,  and  well  knowing  it 
would,  in  all  probability,  lead  to  something  service- 
able to  him),  this  unfortunate  admission  would  not 
have  been  elicited.  The  moment  the  words  fell  from 
Mr.  Winkle's  lips,  Mr.  Phunky  sat  down,  and  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin  rather  hastily  told  him  he  might  leave 


102  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  box,  which  Mr.  Winkle  prepared  to  do  with  great 
readiness,  when  Serjeant  Buzfuz  stopped  him. 

'Stay,  Mr.  Winkle,  stay!'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz, 
'will  your  Lordship  have  the  goodness  to  ask  him, 
what  this  one  instance  of  suspicious  behaviour  towards 
females  on  the  part  of  this  gentleman,  who  is  old 
enough  to  be  his  father,  was?' 

'You  hear  what  the  learned  counsel  says,  sir,'  ob- 
served the  judge,  turning  to  the  miserable  and 
agonised  Mr.  Winkle.  'Describe  the  occasion  to 
which  you  refer.' 

'My  Lord,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  with 
anxiety,  'I — I  'd  rather  not.' 

'Perhaps  so,'  said  the  little  judge;  'but  you  must.' 

Amid  the  profound  silence  of  the  whole  court,  Mr. 
Winkle  faltered  out,  that  the  trifling  circumstance  of 
suspicion  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  being  found  in  a  lady's 
sleeping  apartment  at  midnight;  which  had  ter- 
minated, he  believed,  in  the  breaking  off  of  the  pro- 
jected marriage  of  the  lady  in  question,  and  had  led, 
he  knew,  to  the  whole  party  being  forcibly  carried  be- 
fore George  Nupkins,  Esq.,  magistrate  and  justice  of 
the  peace,  for  the  borough  of  Ipswich ! 

'You  may  leave  the  box,  sir,'  said  Serjeant  Snub- 
bin.  Mr.  Winkle  did  leave  the  box,  and  rushed  with 
delirious  haste  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  where  he 
was  discovered  some  hours  after,  by  the  waiter,  groan- 
ing in  a  hollow  and  dismal  manner,  with  his  head 
buried  beneath  the  sofa  cushions. 

Tracy  Tupman,  and  Augustus  Snodgrass,  were 
severally  called  into  the  box;  both  corroborated  the 
testimony  of  their  unhappy  friend;  and  each  was 
driven  to  the  verge  of  desperation  by  excessive  bad- 
gering. 

Susannah  Sanders  was  then  called,  and  examined 
by  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  and  cross-examined  by  Serjeant 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  103 

Snubbin.  Had  always  said  and  believed  that  Pick- 
wick would  marry  Mrs.  Bardell;  knew  that  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell's  being  engaged  to  Pickwick  was  the  current 
topic  of  conversation  in  the  neighbourhood,  after  the 
fainting  in  July;  had  been  told  it  herself  by  Mrs. 
Mudberry  which  kept  a  mangle,  and  Mrs.  Bunkin 
which  clear-starched,  but  did  not  see  either  Mrs.  Mud- 
berry  or  Mrs.  Bunkin  in  court.  Had  heard  Pick- 
wick ask  the  little  boy  how  he  should  like  to  have 
another  father.  Did  not  know  that  Mrs.  Bardell  was 
at  that  time  keeping  company  with  the  baker,  but  did 
know  that  the  baker  was  then  a  single  man  and  is 
now  married.  Couldn't  swear  that  Mrs.  Bardell  was 
not  very  fond  of  the  baker,  but  should  think  that  the 
baker  was  not  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Bardell,  or  he 
wouldn't  have  married  somebody  else.  Thought  Mrs. 
Bardell  fainted  away  on  the  morning  in  July,  because 
Pickwick  asked  her  to  name  the  day;  knew  that  she 
(witness)  fainted  away  stone  dead  when  Mr.  Sanders 
asked  her  to  name  the  day,  and  believed  that  every- 
body as  called  herself  a  lady  would  do  the  same,  under 
similar  circumstances.  Heard  Pickwick  ask  the  boy 
the  question  about  the  marbles,  but  upon  her  oath  did 
not  know  the  difference  between  an  alley  tor  and  a 
commoney. 

By  the  COURT. — During  the  period  of  her  keeping 
company  with  Mr.  Sanders,  had  received  love  letters, 
like  other  ladies.  In  the  course  of  their  correspond- 
ence Mr.  Sanders  had  often  called  her  a  'duck,'  but 
never  'chops,'  nor  yet  'tomata  sauce.'  He  was  par- 
ticularly fond  of  ducks.  Perhaps  if  he  had  been  as 
fond  of  chops  and  tomata  sauce,  he  might  have  called 
her  that,  as  a  term  of  affection. 

Serjeant  Buzfuz  now  rose  with  more  importance 
than  he  had  yet  exhibited,  if  that  were  possible,  and 
vociferated,  'Call  Samuel  Weller.' 


104  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

It  was  quite  unnecessary  to  call  Samuel  Weller ;  for 
Samuel  Weller  stepped  briskly  into  the  box  the  instant 
his  name  was  pronounced ;  and  placing  his  hat  on  the 
floor,  and  his  arms  on  the  rail,  took  a  bird's-eye  view 
of  the  bar,  and  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the  bench, 
with  a  remarkably  cheerful  and  lively  aspect. 

'What 's  your  name,  sir?'  inquired  the  judge. 

'Sam  Weller,  my  Lord,'  replied  that  gentleman. 

'Do  you  spell  it  with  a  "V"  or  a  "W"?'  inquired 
the  judge. 

'That  depends  upon  the  taste  and  fancy  of  the 
speller,  my  Lord,'  replied  Sam;  'I  never  had  occasion 
to  spell  it  more  than  once  or  twice  in  my  life,  but  I 
spells  it  with  a  "V." 

Here  a  voice  in  the  gallery  exclaimed  aloud,  'Quite 
right  too,  Samivel,  quite  right.  Put  it  down  a  we, 
my  Lord,  put  it  down  a  we.' 

'Who  is  that,  who  dares  to  address  the  court?'  said 
the  little  judge,  looking  up.  'Usher.' 

'Yes,  my  Lord.' 

'Bring  that  person  here  instantly.' 

'Yes,  my  Lord.' 

But  as  the  usher  didn't  find  the  person,  he  didn't 
bring  him;  and,  after  a  great  commotion,  all  the  peo- 
ple who  had  got  up  to  look  for  the  culprit,  sat  down 
again.  The  little  judge  turned  to  the  witness  as  soon 
as  his  indignation  would  allow  him  to  speak,  and 
said — 

'Do  you  know  who  that  was,  sir?' 

'I  rayher  suspect  it  was  my  father,  my  Lord,'  re- 
plied Sam. 

'Do  you  see  him  here  now?'  said  the  judge. 

'No,  I  don't,  my  Lord,'  replied  Sam,  staring  right 
up  into  the  lantern  in  the  roof  of  the  court. 

'If  you  could  have  pointed  him  out,  I  would  have 
committed  him  instantly,'  said  the  judge. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  105 

Sam  bowed  his  acknowledgments  and  turned,  with 
unimpaired  cheerfulness  of  countenance,  towards  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz. 

'Now,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz. 

'Now,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'I  believe  you  are  in  the  service  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
the  defendant  in  this  case.  Speak  up,  if  you  please, 
Mr.  Weller.' 

'I  mean  to  speak  up,  sir,'  replied  Sam;  'I  am  in 
the  service  o'  that  'ere  gen'l'm'n,  and  a  wery  good  serv- 
ice it  is.' 

'Little  to  do,  and  plenty  to  get,  I  suppose?'  said 
Serjeant  Buzfuz,  with  jocularity. 

'Oh,  quite  enough  to  get,  sir,  as  the  soldier  said  ven 
they  ordered  him  three  hundred  and  fifty  lashes,'  re- 
plied Sam. 

'You  must  not  tell  us  what  the  soldier,  or  any  other 
man,  said,  sir,'  interposed  the  judge;  'it's  not  evi- 
dence.' 

'Wery  good,  my  Lord,'  replied  Sam. 

'Do  you  recollect  anything  particular  happening  on 
the  morning  when  you  were  first  engaged  by  the 
defendant;  eh,  Mr.  Weller?'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz. 

'Yes  I  do,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'Have  the  goodness  to  tell  the  jury  what  it  was.' 

'I  had  a  reg'lar  new  fit  out  o'  clothes  that  mornin', 
gen'l'm'n  of  the  jury/  said  Sam,  'and  that  was  a  wery 
partickler  and  uncommon  circumstance  vith  me  in 
those  days.' 

Hereupon  there  was  a  general  laugh ;  and  the  little 
judge,  looking  with  an  angry  countenance  over  his 
desk,  said,  'You  had  better  be  careful,  sir.' 

'So  Mr.  Pickwick  said  at  the  time,  my  Lord,'  re- 
plied Sam;  'and  I  was  wery  careful  o'  that  'ere  suit 
o'  clothes;  wery  careful  indeed,  my  Lord.' 

The  judge  looked  sternly  at  Sam  for  full  two  min- 


106  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

utes,  but  Sam's  features  were  so  perfectly  calm  and 
serene  that  the  judge  said  nothing,  and  motioned 
Serjeant  Buzfuz  to  proceed. 

'Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Serjeant 
Buzfuz,  folding  his  arms  emphatically,  and  turning 
half-round  to  the  jury,  as  if  in  mute  assurance  that 
he  would  bother  the  witness  yet:  'Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me,  Mr.  Weller,  that  you  saw  nothing  of  this 
fainting  on  the  part  of  the  plaintiff  in  the  arms  of 
the  defendant,  which  you  have  heard  described  by  the 
witnesses  ?' 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  Sam,  'I  wras  in  the  passage 
till  they  called  me  up,  and  then  the  old  lady  was  not 
there.' 

'Now,  attend,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz, 
dipping  a  large  pen  into  the  inkstand  before  him,  for 
the  purpose  of  frightening  Sam  with  a  show  of  tak- 
ing down  his  answer.  'You  were  in  the  passage,  and 
yet  saw  nothing  of  what  was  going  forward.  Have 
you  a  pair  of  eyes,  Mr.  Weller?' 

'Yes,  I  have  a  pair  of  eyes,'  replied  Sam,  'and  that 's 
just  it.  If  they  wos  a  pair  o'  patent  double  million 
magnifyin'  gas  microscopes  of  hextra  power,  p'raps 
I  might  be  able  to  see  through  a  flight  o'  stairs  and  a 
deal  door;  but  bein'  only  eyes,  you  see,  my  wdsion's 
limited.' 

At  this  answer,  which  was  delivered  without  the 
slightest  appearance  of  irritation,  and  with  the  most 
complete  simplicity  and  equanimity  of  manner,  the 
spectators  tittered,  the  little  judge  smiled,  and  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz  looked  particularly  foolish.  After  a 
short  consultation  with  Dodson  and  Fogg,  the 
learned  Serjeant  again  turned  towards  Sam,  and  said, 
with  a  painful  effort  to  conceal  his  vexation,  'Now, 
Mr.  Weller,  I  '11  ask  you  a  question  on  another  point, 
if  you  please.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  107 

'If  you  please,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam,  with  the  utmost 
good-humour. 

'Do  you  remember  going  up  to  Mrs.  Bardell's 
house,  one  night  in  November  last?' 

'Oh  yes,  wery  well.' 

'Oh,  you  do  remember  that,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Ser- 
jeant Buzfuz,  recovering  his  spirits;  'I  thought  we 
should  get  at  something  at  last.' 

'I  rayther  thought  that,  too,  sir,'  replied  Sam;  and 
at  this  the  spectators  tittered  again. 

'Well ;  I  suppose  you  went  up  to  have  a  little  talk 
about  this  trial — eh,  Mr.  Weller?'  said  Serjeant  Buz- 
fuz, looking  knowingly  at  the  jury. 

'I  went  up  to  pay  the  rent ;  but  we  did  get  a  talkin' 
about  the  trial,'  replied  Sam. 

'Oh,  you  did  get  a  talking  about  the  trial,'  said 
Serjeant  Buzfuz,  brightening  up  with  the  anticipa- 
tion of  some  important  discovery.  'Now  what  passed 
about  the  trial;  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  us, 
Mr.  Weller?' 

'Vith  all  the  pleasure  iri  life,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 
'Arter  a  few  unimportant  obserwations  from  the  two 
wirtuous  females  as  has  been  examined  here  to-day, 
the  ladies  gets  into  a  very  great  state  o'  admiration  at 
the  honourable  conduct  of  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg— 
them  two  gen'l'm'n  as  is  settin'  near  you  now.'  This, 
of  course,  drew  general  attention  to  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  who  looked  as  virtuous  as  possible. 

'The  attorneys  for  the  plaintiff,'  said  Mr.  Serjeant 
Buzfuz.  'Well!  They  spoke  in  high  praise  of  the 
honourable  conduct  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg, 
the  attorneys  for  the  plaintiff,  did  they  ?' 

'Yes,'  said  Sam,  'they  said  what  a  wery  gen'rous 
thing  it  was  o'  them  to  have  taken  up  the  case  on  spec, 
and  to  charge  nothing  at  all  for  costs,  unless  they  got 
'em  out  of  Mr.  Pickwick.' 


108  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

At  this  very  unexpected  reply,  the  spectators  tit- 
tered again,  and  Dodson  and  Fogg,  turning  very  red, 
leant  over  to  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  and  in  a  hurried  man- 
ner whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

'You  are  quite  right,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz  aloud, 
with  affected  composure.  'It 's  perfectly  useless,  my 
Lord,  attempting  to  get  at  any  evidence  through  the 
impenetrable  stupidity  of  this  witness.  I  will  not 
trouble  the  court  by  asking  him  any  more  questions. 
Stand  down,  sir.' 

'Would  any  other  gen'l'm'n  like  to  ask  me  any- 
thin'?'  inquired  Sam,  taking  up  his  hat,  and  looking 
round  most  deliberately. 

'Not  I,  Mr.  Weller,  thank  you,'  said  Serjeant 
Snubbin,  laughing. 

'You  may  go  down,  sir,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz, 
waving  his  hand  impatiently.  Sam  went  down  ac- 
cordingly, after  doing  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg's 
case  as  much  harm  as  he  conveniently  could,  and 
saying  just  as  little  respecting  Mr.  I'ickwick  as 
might  be,  which  was  precisely  the  object  he  had  in 
view  all  along. 

'I  have  no  objection  to  admit,  my  Lord,'  said  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin,  'if  it  will  save  the  examination  of 
another  witness,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  has  retired  from 
business,  and  is  a  gentleman  of  considerable  inde- 
pendent property.' 

'Very  well,'  said  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  putting  in  the 
two  letters  to  be  read,  'then  that 's  my  case,  my  Lord.' 

Serjeant  Snubbin  then  addressed  the  jury  on  be- 
half of  the  defendant;  and  a  very  long  and  a  very 
emphatic  address  he  delivered,  in  which  he  bestowed 
the  highest  possible  eulogiums  on  the  conduct  and 
character  of  Mr.  Pickwick ;  but  inasmuch  as  our  read- 
ers are  far  better  able  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of 
that  gentleman's  merits  and  deserts,  than  Serjeant 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  109 

Snubbin  could  possibly  be,  we  do  not  feel  called  upon 
to  enter  at  any  length  into  the  learned  gentleman's  ob- 
servations. He  attempted  to  show  that  the  letters 
which  had  been  exhibited,  merely  related  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's dinner,  or  to  the  preparations  for  receiving 
him  in  his  apartments  on  his  return  from  some  coun- 
try excursion.  It  is  sufficient  to  add  in  general  terms, 
that  he  did  the  best  he  could  for  Mr.  Pickwick;  and 
the  best,  as  everybody  knows,  on  the  infallible  author- 
ity of  the  old  adage,  could  do  no  more. 

Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  summed  up,  in  the  old-estab- 
lished and  most  approved  form.  He  read  as  much 
of  his  notes  to  the  jury  as  he  could  decipher  on 
so  short  a  notice,  and  made  running  comments  on  the 
evidence  as  he  went  along.  If  Mrs.  Bardell  were 
right,  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
wrong,  and  if  they  thought  the  evidence  of  Mrs. 
Cluppins  worthy  of  credence  they  would  believe  it, 
and,  if  they  didn't,  why  they  wouldn't.  If  they  were 
satisfied  that  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage  had 
been  committed,  they  would  find  for  the  plaintiff 
with  such  damages  as  they  thought  proper ;  and  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  appeared  to  them  that  no  promise 
of  marriage  had  ever  been  given,  they  would  find  for 
the  defendant  with  no  damages  at  all.  The  jury 
then  retired  to  their  private  room  to  talk  the  matter 
over,  and  the  judge  retired  to  his  private  room,  to 
refresh  himself  with  a  mutton  chop  and  a  glass  of 
sherry. 

An  anxious  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed;  the  jury 
came  back;  the  judge  was  fetched  in.  Mr.  Pickwick 
put  on  his  spectacles,  and  gazed  at  the  foreman  with 
an  agitated  countenance  and  a  quickly  beating  heart. 

'Gentlemen,'  said  the  individual  in  black,  'are  you 
all  agreed  upon  your  verdict?' 

'We  are/  replied  the  foreman. 


110  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Do  you  find  for  the  plaintiff,  gentlemen,  or  for 
the  defendant?' 

'For  the  plaintiff.' 

'With  what  damages,  gentlemen?' 

'Seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  off  his  spectacles,  carefully 
wiped  the  glasses,  folded  them  into  their  case,  and 
put  them  in  his  pocket;  then  having  drawn  on  his 
gloves  with  great  nicety,  and  stared  at  the  foreman 
all  the  while,  he  mechanically  followed  Mr.  Perker 
and  the  blue  bag  out  of  court. 

They  stopped  in  a  side  room  while  Perker  paid  the 
court  fees;  and  here,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  joined  by  his 
friends.  Here,  too,  he  encountered  Messrs.  Dodson 
and  Fogg,  rubbing  their  hands  with  every  token  of 
outward  satisfaction. 

'Well,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Well,  sir,'  said  Dodson:  for  self  and  partner. 

'You  imagine  you  '11  get  your  costs,  don't  you,  gen- 
tlemen?' said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Fogg  said  they  thought  it  rather  probable.  Dod- 
son smiled,  and  said  they  'd  try. 

'You  may  try,  and  try,  and  try  again,  Messrs. 
Dodson  and  Fogg,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  vehemently, 
'but  not  one  farthing  of  costs  or  damages  do  you  ever 
get  from  me,  if  I  spend  the  rest  of  my  existence  in  a 
debtors'  prison.' 

'Ha,  ha!'  laughed  Dodson.  'You'll  think  better 
of  that,  before  next  term,  Mr.  Pickwick.' 

'He,  he,  he!  We  '11  soon  see  about  that,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick,' grinned  Fogg. 

Speechless  with  indignation,  Mr.  Pickwick  allowed 
himself  to  be  led  by  his  solicitor  and  friends  to  the 
door,  and  there  assisted  into  a  hackney  coach,  which 
had  been  fetched  for  the  purpose,  by  the  ever-watch- 
ful Sam  Weller. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  111 

Sam  had  put  up  the  steps,  and  was  preparing  to 
jump  upon  the  box,  when  he  felt  himself  gently 
touched  on  the  shoulder;  and  looking  round,  his 
father  stood  before  him.  The  old  gentleman's  coun- 
tenance wore  a  mournful  expression,  as  he  shook  his 
head  gravely,  and  said,  in  warning  accents — 

'I  know'd  what  'ud  come  o'  this  here  mode  o'  doin' 
bis'ness.  Oh  Sammy,  Sammy,  vy  worn't  there  a 
alleybi!' 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

IX  WHICH  MR.  PICKWICK  THINKS  HE  HAD  BETTER  GO 
TO  BATH ;  AND  GOES  ACCORDINGLY 

'BuT  surely,  my  dear  sir,'  said  little  Perker,  as  he 
stood  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  apartment  on  the  morning 
after  the  trial:  'surely  you  don't  really  mean — really 
and  seriously  now,  and  irritation  apart — that  you 
won't  pay  these  costs  and  damages  ?' 

'Not  one  halfpenny,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly; 
'not  one  halfpenny.' 

'Hooroar  for  the  principle,  as  the  money-lender 
said  ven  he  vouldn't  renew  the  bill,'  observed  Mr. 
Weller,  who  was  clearing  away  the  breakfast  things. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'have  the  goodness  to 
step  downstairs.' 

'Cert'nly,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  and  acting  on 
Mr.  Pickwick's  gentle  hint,  Sam  retired. 

'No,  Perker,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  serious- 
ness of  manner,  'my  friends  here,  have  endeavoured 
to  dissuade  me  from  this  determination,  but  without 
avail.  I  shall  employ  myself  as  usual,  until  the  oppo- 
site party  have  the  power  of  issuing  a  legal  process 
of  execution  against  me;  and  if  they  are  vile  enough 


112  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  avail  themselves  of  it,  and  to  arrest  my  person,  i 
shall  yield  myself  up  with  perfect  cheerfulness  and 
content  of  heart.  When  can  they  do  this  ?' 

'They  can  issue  execution,  my  dear  sir,  for  the 
amount  of  the  damages  and  taxed  costs,  next  term,' 
replied  Perker,  'just  two  months  hence,  my  dear  sir.' 

'Very  good,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Until  that  time, 
my  dear  fellow,  let  me  hear  no  more  of  the  matter. 
And  now,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round 
on  his  friends  with  a  good-humoured  smile,  and  a 
sparkle  in  the  eye  which  no  spectacles  could  dim  or 
conceal,  'the  only  question  is,  Where  shall  we  go  next?' 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were  too  much 
affected  by  their  friend's  heroism  to  offer  any  reply. 
Mr.  Winkle  had  not  yet  sufficiently  recovered  the 
recollection  of  his  evidence  at  the  trial,  to  make  any 
observation  on  any  subject,  so  Mr.  Pickwick  paused 
in  vain. 

'Well,'  said  that  gentleman,  'if  you  leave  me  to 
suggest  our  destination,  I  say  Bath.  I  think  none  of 
us  have  ever  been  there.' 

Nobody  had;  and  as  the  proposition  was  warmly 
seconded  by  Perker,  who  considered  it  extremely 
probable  that  if  Mr.  Pickwick  saw  a  little  change  and 
gaiety  he  would  be  inclined  to  think  better  of  his 
determination,  and  worse  of  a  debtors'  prison,  it  was 
carried  unanimously :  and  Sam  was  at  once  despatched 
to  the  White  Horse  Cellar,  to  take  five  places  by  the 
half -past  seven  o'clock  coach,  next  morning. 

There  were  just  two  places  to  be  had  inside,  and 
just  three  to  be  had  out;  so  Sam  Weller  booked  for 
them  all,  and  having  exchanged  a  few  compliments 
with  the  booking-office  clerk  on  the  subject  of  a  pewter 
half-crown  which  was  tendered  him  as  a  portion  of 
his  'change,'  walked  back  to  the  George  and  Vulture, 
where  he  was  pretty  busily  employed  until  bed-time 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  113 

in  reducing  clothes  and  linen  into  the  smallest  possi- 
ble compass,  and  exerting  his  mechanical  genius  in 
constructing  a  variety  of  ingenious  devices  for  keep- 
ing the  lids  on  boxes  which  had  neither  locks  nor 
hinges. 

The  next  was  a  very  unpropitious  morning  for  a 
journey — muggy,  damp,  and  drizzly.  The  horses  in 
the  stages  that  were  going  out,  and  had  come  through 
the  city,  were  smoking  so,  that  the  outside  passengers 
were  invisible.  The  newspaper-sellers  looked  moist, 
and  smelt  mouldy;  the  wet  ran  off  the  hats  of  the 
orange-vendors  as  they  thrust  their  heads  into  the 
coach  windows,  and  diluted  the  insides  in  a  refresh- 
ing manner.  The  Jews  with  the  fifty-bladed  pen- 
knives shut  them  up  in  despair;  the  men  with  the 
pocket-books  made  pocket-books  of  them.  Watch- 
guards  and  toasting-forks  were  alike  at  a  discount, 
and  pencil-cases  and  sponge  were  a  drug  in  the 
market. 

Leaving  Sam  Weller  to  rescue  the  luggage  from 
the  seven  or  eight  porters  who  flung  themselves  sav- 
agely upon  it,  the  moment  the  coach  stopped:  and 
finding  that  they  were  about  twenty  minutes  too 
early :  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  went  for  shelter 
into  the  travellers'  room — the  last  resource  of  human 
dejection. 

The  travellers'  room  at  the  White  Horse  Cellar  is 
of  course  uncomfortable;  it  would  be  no  travellers' 
room  if  it  were  not.  It  is  the  right-hand  parlour, 
into  which  an  aspiring  kitchen  fire-place  appears  to 
have  walked,  accompanied  by  a  rebellious  poker, 
tongs,  and  shovel.  It  is  divided  into  boxes,  for  the 
solitary  confinement  of  travellers,  and  is  furnished 
with  a  clock,  a  looking-glass,  and  a  live  waiter:  which 
latter  article  is  kept  in  a  small  kennel  for  washing 
glasses,  in  a  corner  of  the  apartment. 


114  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

One  of  these  boxes  was  occupied,  on  this  particular 
occasion,  by  a  stern-eyed  man  of  about  five-and-forty, 
who  had  a  bald  and  glossy  forehead,  with  a  good  deal 
of  black  hair  at  the  sides  and  back  of  his  head,  and 
large  black  whiskers.  He  was  buttoned  up  to  the 
chin  in  a  brown  coat ;  and  had  a  large  seal-skin  travel- 
ling cap,  and  a  great-coat  and  cloak,  lying  on  the  seat 
beside  him.  He  looked  up  from  his  breakfast  as  Mr. 
Pickwick  entered,  with  a  fierce  and  peremptory  air, 
which  was  very  dignified ;  and  having  scrutinised  that 
gentleman  and  his  companions  to  his  entire  satisfac- 
tion, hummed  a  tune,  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to 
say  that  he  rather  suspected  somebody  wranted  to  take 
advantage  of  him,  but  it  wouldn't  do. 

'Waiter,'  said  the  gentleman  with  the  whiskers. 

'Sir?'  replied  a  man  with  a  dirty  complexion,  and  a 
towel  of  the  same,  emerging  from  the  kennel  before 
mentioned. 

'Some  more  toast.' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'Buttered  toast,  mind/  said  the  gentleman,  fiercely. 

'D'rectly,  sir/  replied  the  waiter. 

The  gentleman  with  the  whiskers  hummed  a  tune 
in  the  same  manner  as  before,  and  pending  the  ar- 
rival of  the  toast,  advanced  to  the  front  of  the  fire, 
and,  taking  his  coat  tails  under  his  arms,  looked  at  his 
boots,  and  ruminated. 

'I  wonder  whereabouts  in  Bath  this  coach  puts  up,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  mildly  addressing  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Hum — ^eh — what's  that?'  said  the  strange  man. 

'I  made  an  observation  to  my  friend,  sir,'  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick,  always  ready  to  enter  into  conversa- 
tion. 'I  wondered  at  what  house  the  Bath  coach  put 
up.  Perhaps  you  can  inform  me.' 

'Are  you  going  to  Bath  ?'  said  the  strange  man. 

'I  am,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  115 

'And  those  other  gentlemen  ?' 

'They  are  going  also,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Not  inside — I  '11  be  damned  if  you  're  going  in- 
side,' said  the  strange  man. 

'Not  all  of  us,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,  not  all  of  you,'  said  the  strange  man  emphat- 
ically. 'I  Ve  taken  two  places.  If  they  try  to 
squeeze  six  people  into  an  infernal  box  that  only 
holds  four,  I  '11  take  a  post-chaise  and  bring  an  action. 
I  Ve  paid  my  fare.  It  won't  do ;  I  told  the  clerk 
when  I  took  my  places  that  it  wouldn't  do.  I  know 
these  things  have  been  done.  I  know  they  are  done 
every  day ;  but  I  never  was  done,  and  I  never  will  be. 
Those  who  know  me  best,  best  know  it;  crush  me!' 
Here  the  fierce  gentleman  rang  the  bell  with  great 
violence,  and  told  the  waiter  he  'd  better  bring  the 
toast  in  five  seconds,  or  he  'd  know  the  reason  why. 

'My  good  sir/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'you  will  allow 
me  to  observe  that  this  is  a  very  unnecessary  display 
of  excitement.  I  have  only  taken  places  inside  for 
two.' 

'I  am  glad  to  hear  it,'  said  the  fierce  man.  'I  with- 
draw my  expressions.  I  tender  an  apology. 
There  's  my  card.  Give  me  your  acquaintance.' 

'With  great  pleasure,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'We  are  to  be  fellow  travellers,  and  I  hope  we  shall 
find  each  other's  society  mutually  agreeable.' 

'I  hope  we  shall,'  said  the  fierce  gentleman.  'I 
know  we  shall.  I  like  your  looks;  they  please  me. 
Gentlemen,  your  hands  and  names.  Know  me.' 

Of  course,  an  interchange  of  friendly  salutations 
followed  this  gracious  speech;  and  the  fierce  gentle- 
man immediately  proceeded  to  inform  the  friends, 
in  the  same  short,  abrupt,  jerking  sentences,  that  his 
name  was  Dowler;  that  he  was  going  to  Bath  on 
pleasure;  that  he  was  formerly  in  the  army;  that  he 


116  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

had  now  set  up  in  business  as  a  gentleman;  that  he 
lived  upon  the  profits;  and  that  the  individual  for 
whom  the  second  place  was  taken,  was  a  personage 
no  less  illustrious  than  Mrs.  Dowler  his  lady  wife. 

'She  's  a  fine  woman/  said  Mr.  Dowler.  'I  am 
proud  of  her.  I  have  reason.' 

'I  hope  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  judging,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

'You  shall,'  replied  Dowler.  'She  shall  know  you. 
She  shall  esteem  you.  I  courted  her  under  singular 
circumstances.  I  won  her  through  a  rash  vow. 
Thus.  I  saw  her;  I  loved  her;  I  proposed;  she  re- 
fused me. — "You  love  another?"-  -"Spare  my 
blushes."— "I  know  him."— "You  do."— "Very  good; 
if  he  remains  here,  I  '11  skin  him." 

'Lord  bless  me!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  invol- 
untarily. 

'Did  you  skin  the  gentleman,  sir?'  inquired  Mr. 
Winkle,  with  a  very  pale  face. 

'I  wrote  him  a  note.  I  said  it  was  a  painful  thing. 
And  so  it  was.' 

'Certainly,'  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

'I  said  I  had  pledged  my  word  as  a  gentleman  to 
skin  him.  My  character  was  at  stake.  I  had  no 
alternative.  As  an  officer  in  his  Majesty's  service, 
I  was  bound  to  skin  him.  I  regretted  the  necessity, 
but  it  must  be  done.  He  was  open  to  conviction. 
He  saw  that  the  rules  of  the  service  were  imperative. 
He  fled.  I  married  her.  Here 's  the  coach. 
That 's  her  head.' 

As  Mr.  Dowler  concluded,  he  pointed  to  a  stage 
which  had  just  driven  up,  from  the  open  window  of 
which  a  rather  pretty  face  in  a  bright  blue  bonnet  was 
looking  among  the  crowd  on  the  pavement:  most 
probably  for  the  rash  man  himself.  Mr.  Dowler  paid 
his  bill  and  hurried  out  with  his  travelling-cap,  coat, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  117 


and  cloak;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  fol- 
lowed to  secure  their  places. 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  seated  them- 
selves at  the  back  part  of  the  coach ;  Mr.  Winkle  had 
got  inside ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  preparing  to  follow 
him,  when  Sam  Weller  came  up  to  his  master,  and 
whispering  in  his  ear,  begged  to  speak  to  him,  with 
an  air  of  the  deepest  mystery. 

'Well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'what 's  the  matter 
now  V 

'Here  's  rayther  a  rum  go,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'What  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'This  here,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam.  'I  'm  wery  much 
afeerd,  sir,  that  the  properiator  o'  this  here  coach  is 
playin'  some  imperence  vith  us.' 

'How  is  that,  Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'aren't 
the  names  down  on  the  way-bill?' 

'The  names  is  not  only  down  on  the  vay-bill,  sir,' 
replied  Sam,  'but  they  've  painted  vun  on  'em  up,  on 
the  door  o'  the  coach.'  As  Sam  spoke,  he  pointed  to 
that  part  of  the  coach  door  on  which  the  proprietor's 
name  usually  appears;  and  there,  sure  enough,  gilt 
in  letters  of  a  good  size,  was  the  magic  name  of 
PICKWICK! 

'Dear  me,'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  stag- 
gered by  the  coincidence;  'what  a  very  extraordinary 
thing!'  ' 

'Yes,  but  that  ain't  all,'  said  Sam,  again  directing 
his  master's  attention  to  the  coach  door;  'not  content 
vith  writin'  up  Pickwick,  they  puts  "Moses"  afore  it, 
vich  I  call  addin'  insult  to  injury,  as  the  parrot  said 
ven  they  not  only  took  him  from  his  native  land,  but 
made  him  talk  the  English  langwidge  artenvards.' 

'It 's  odd  enough,  certainly,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick ;  'but  if  we  stand  talking  here,  we  shall  lose  our 
places.' 


118  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Wot,  ain't  nothin'  to  be  done  in  consequence,  sir?' 
exclaimed  Sam,  perfectly  aghast  at  the  coolness  with 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  prepared  to  ensconce  himself 
inside. 

'Done!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'What  should  be 
done?' 

'Ain't  nobody  to  be  whopped  for  takin'  this  here 
liberty,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  expected  that 
at  least  he  would  have  been  commissioned  to  challenge 
the  guard  and  coachman  to  a  pugilistic  encounter  on 
the  spot. 

'Certainly  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  eagerly; 
'not  on  any  account.  Jump  up  to  your  seat  directly.' 

'I  'm  wery  much  af  eerd,'  muttered  Sam  to  him- 
self, as  he  turned  away,  'that  somethin*  queer's  come 
over  the  governor,  or  he  'd  never  ha'  stood  this  so 
quiet.  I  hope  that  'ere  trial  hasn't  broke  his  spirit, 
but  it  looks  bad,  wery  bad.'  Mr.  Weller  shook  his 
head  gravely ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  as  an  illus- 
tration of  the  manner  in  which  he  took  this  circum- 
stance to  heart,  that  he  did  not  speak  another  word 
until  the  coach  reached  the  Kensington  turnpike. 
Which  was  so  long  a  time  for  him  to  remain  taci- 
turn, that  the  fact  may  be  considered  wholly  unpre- 
cedented. • 

Nothing  worthy  of  special  mention  occurred  dur- 
ing the  journey.  Mr.  Dowler  relate,,  a  variety  of 
anecdotes,  all  illustrative  of  his  own  personal  prowess 
and  desperation,  and  appealed  to  Mrs.  Dowler  in 
corroboration  thereof:  when  Mrs.  Dowler  invariably 
brought  in,  in  the  form  of  an  appendix,  some  remark- 
able fact  or  circumstance  which  Mr.  Dowler  had 
forgotten,  or  had  perhaps  through  modesty  omitted: 
for  the  addenda  in  every  instance  went  to  show  that 
Mr.  Dowler  was  even  a  more  wonderful  fellow  than 
he  made  himself  out  to  be.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  119 

Winkle  listened  with  great  admiration,  and  at 
intervals  conversed  with  Mrs.  Dowler,  who  was  a 
very  agreeable  and  fascinating  person.  So,  what 
between  Mr.  Dowler's  stories,  and  Mrs.  Dowler's 
charms,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  good  humour,  and  Mr. 
Winkle's  good  listening,  the  insides  contrived  to  be 
very  companionable  all  the  way. 

The  outsides  did  as  outsides  always  do.  They  were 
very  cheerful  and  talkative  at  the  beginning  of  every 
stage,  and  very  dismal  and  sleepy  in  the  middle,  and 
very  bright  and  wakeful  again  towards  the  end. 
There  was  one  young  gentleman  in  an  India-rubber 
cloak,  who  smoked  cigars  all  day;  and  there  was 
another  young  gentleman  in  a  parody  upon  a  great- 
coat, who  lighted  a  good  many,  and  feeling  obviously 
unsettled  after  the  second  wThiff,  threw  them  away 
when  he  thought  nobody  was  looking  at  him.  There 
was  a  third  young  man  on  the  box  who  wished  to  be 
learned  in  cattle;  and  an  old  one  behind,  who  was 
familiar  with  farming.  There  was  a  constant  suc- 
cession of  Christian  names  in  smock  frocks  and  white 
coats,  who  were  invited  to  have  a  'lift'  by  the  guard, 
and  who  knew  every  horse  and  hostler  on  the  road 
and  off  it ;  and  there  was  a  dinner  which  would  have 
been  cheap  at  half-a-crown  a  mouth,  if  any  moderate 
number  of  mouths  could  have  eaten  it  in  the  time. 
And  at  seven  o'clock  P.  M.,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends,  and  Mr.  Dowler  and  his  wife,  respectively 
retired  to  their  private  sitting-rooms  at  the  White 
Hart  Hotel,  opposite  the  Great  Pump  Room,  Bath, 
where  the  waiters,  from  their  costume,  might  be 
mistaken  for  Westminster  boys,  only  they  destroy  the 
illusion  by  behaving  themselves  much  better. 

Breakfast  had  scarcely  been  cleared  away  on  the 
succeeding  morning,  when  a  waiter  brought  in  Mr. 
Dowler's  card,  with  a  request  to  be  allowed  permis- 


120  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sion  to  introduce  a  friend.  Mr.  Dowler  at  once 
followed  up  the  delivery  of  the  card,  by  bringing  him- 
self and  the  friend  also. 

The  friend  was  a  charming  young  man  of  not 
much  more  than  fifty,  dressed  in  a  very  bright  blue 
coat  with  resplendent  buttons,  black  trousers,  and  the 
thinnest  possible  pair  of  highly-polished  boots.  A 
gold  eye-glass  was  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a 
short  broad  black  ribbon ;  a  gold  snuff-box  was  lightly 
clasped  in  his  left  hand;  gold  rings  innumerable  glit- 
tered on  his  fingers;  and  a  large  diamond  pin  set  in 
gold  glistened  in  his  shirt  frill.  He  had  a  gold 
watch,  and  a  gold  curb-chain  with  large  gold  seals; 
and  he  carried  a  pliant  ebony  cane  with  a  heavy  gold 
top.  His  linen  was  of  the  very  whitest,  finest,  and 
stiff est ;  his  wig  of  the  glossiest,  blackest,  and  curliest. 
His  snuff  was  prince's  mixture ;  his  scent  bouquet  du 
roi.  His  features  were  contracted  into  a  perpetual 
smile ;  and  his  teeth  were  in  such  perfect  order  that  it 
was  difficult  at  a  small  distance  to  tell  the  real  from 
the  false. 

'Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Mr.  Dowler;  'my  friend, 
Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire,  M.C.  Bantam;  Mr. 
Pickwick.  Know  each  other.' 

'Welcome  to  Ba — ath,  sir.     This  is  indeed  an  acqui- 
sition.    Most  welcome  to  Ba — ath,  sir.     It  is  long- 
very  long,  Mr.  Pickwick,  since  you  drank  the  waters. 
It  appears  an  age,  Mr.  Pickwick.     Re — markable!' 

Such  were  the  expressions  with  which  Angelo 
Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire,  M.C.,  took  Mr.  Pickwick's 
hand;  retaining  it  in  his,  meantime,  and  shrugging 
up  his  shoulders  with  a  constant  succession  of  bows, 
as  if  he  really  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  the 
trial  of  letting  it  go  again. 

'It  is  a  very  long  time  since  I  drank  the  waters, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  121 

certainly,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  'for  to  the  best  of 
my  knowledge,  I  was  never  here  before.' 

'Never  in  Ba— ath,  Mr.  Pickwick!'  exclaimed  the 
Grand  Master,  letting  the  hand  fall  in  astonishment. 
'Never  in  Ba— ath !  He !  he !  Mr.  Pickwick,  you  are 
a  wag.  Not  bad,  not  bad.  Good,  good.  He!  he! 
he !  Re — markable !' 

To  my  shame,  I  must  say  that  I  am  perfectly 
serious,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  really  never  was 
here  before.' 

'Oh,  I  see,'  exclaimed  the  Grand  Master,  looking 
extremely  pleased;  'yes,  yes — good,  good — better  and 
better.  You  are  the  gentleman  of  whom  we  have 
heard.  Yes;  we  know  you,  Mr.  Pickwick;  we  know 
you.' 

'The  reports  of  the  trial  in  those  confounded 
papers,'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick.  'They  have  heard  all 
about  me.' 

'You  are  the  gentleman  residing  on  Clapham 
Green,'  resumed  Bantam,  'who  lost  the  use  of  his 
limbs  from  imprudently  taking  cold  after  port  wine; 
who  could  not  be  moved  in  consequence  of  acute  suf- 
fering, and  who  had  the  water  from  the  King's  Bath 
bottled  at  one  hundred  and  three  degrees,  and  sent 
by  waggon  to  his  bed-room  in  town,  where  he  bathed, 
sneezed,  and  same  day  recovered.  Very  re — mark- 
able!' 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment  which 
the  supposition  implied,  but  had  the  self-denial  to 
repudiate  it,  notwithstanding;  and  taking  advantage 
of  a  moment's  silence  on  the  part  of  the  M.C.,  begged 
to  introduce  his  friends,  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass.  An  introduction  which  over- 
whelmed the  M.C.  with  delight  and  honour. 

'Bantam,'  said  Mr.  Dowler,  'Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 


122  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

friends  are  strangers.  They  must  put  their  names 
down.  Where  's  the  book?' 

'The  register  of  the  distinguished  visitors  in 
Ba — ath  will  be  at  the  Pump  Room  this  morning  at 
two  o'clock,'  replied  the  M.C.  'Will  you  guide  our 
friends  to  that  splendid  building,  and  enable  me  to 
procure  their  autographs  ?' 

'I  will,'  rejoined  Dowler.  'This  is  a  long  call. 
It 's  time  to  go.  I  shall  be  here  again  in  an  hour. 
Come.' 

'This  is  a  ball  night,'  said  the  M.C.,  again  taking 
Mr.  Pickwick's  hand,  as  he  rose  to  go.  'The  ball 
nights  in  Ba — ath  are  moments  snatched  from  Para- 
dise ;  rendered  bewitching  by  music,  beauty,  elegance, 
fashion,  etiquette,  and — and — above  all,  by  the  ab- 
sence of  tradespeople,  who  are  quite  inconsistent  with 
Paradise;  and  who  have  an  amalgamation  of  them- 
selves at  the  Guildhall  every  fortnight,  which  is,  to 
say  the  least,  remarkable.  Good  bye,  good  bye !'  and 
protesting  all  the  way  downstairs  that  he  was  most 
satisfied,  and  most  delighted,  and  most  overpowered, 
and  most  flattered,  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire, 
M.C.,  stepped  into  a  very  elegant  chariot  that  waited 
at  the  door,  and  rattled  off. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends,  escorted  by  Dowler,  repaired  to  the  Assembly 
Rooms,  and  wrote  their  names  down  in  a  book.  An 
instance  of  condescension  at  which  Angelo  Bantam 
was  even  more  overpowered  than  before.  Tickets  of 
admission  to  that  evening's  assembly  were  to  have 
been  prepared  for  the  whole  party,  but  as  they  were 
not  ready,  Mr.  Pickwick  undertook,  despite  all  the 
protestations  to  the  contrary  of  Angelo  Bantam,  to 
send  Sam  for  them  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
to  the  M.C.'s  house  in  Queen  Square.  Having  taken 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  123 

a  short  walk  through  the  city,  and  arrived  at  the 
unanimous  conclusion  that  Park  Street  was  very 
much  like  the  perpendicular  streets  a  man  sees  in  a 
dream,  which  he  cannot  get  up  for  the  life  of  him, 
they  returned  to  the  White  Hart,  and  despatched  Sam 
on  the  errand  to  which  his  master  had  pledged  him. 

Sam  Weller  put  on  his  hat  in  a  very  easy  and 
graceful  manner,  and  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  waist- 
coat pockets,  walked  with  great  deliberation  to  Queen 
Square,  whistling  as  he  went  along,  several  of  the 
most  popular  airs  of  the  day,  as  arranged  with  en- 
tirely new  movements  for  that  noble  instrument  the 
organ,  either  mouth  or  barrel.  Arriving  at  the  num- 
ber in  Queen  Square  to  which  he  had  been  directed, 
he  left  off  whistling,  and  gave  a  cheerful  knock, 
which  was  instantaneously  answered  by  a  powdered- 
headed  footman  in  gorgeous  livery,  and  of  symmetri- 
cal stature. 

'Is  this  here  Mr.  Bantam's,  old  feller?'  inquired 
Sam  Weller,  nothing  abashed  by  the  blaze  of  splen- 
dour which  burst  upon  his  sight,  in  the  person  of  the 
powdered-headed  footman  with  the  gorgeous  livery. 

'Why,  young  man?'  was  the  haughty  inquiry  of 
the  powdered-headed  footman. 

'  'Cos  if  it  is,  jist  you  step  into  him  with  that  'ere 
card,  and  say  Mr.  Veller 's  a  waitin',  will  you?'  said 
Sam.  And  saying  it,  he  very  coolly  walked  into  the 
hall,  and  sat  down. 

The  powdered-headed  footman  slammed  the  door 
very  hard,  and  scowled  very  grandly;  but  both  the 
slam  and  the  scowl  were  lost  upon  Sam,  who  was  re- 
garding a  mahogany  umbrella  stand  with  every  out- 
ward token  of  critical  approval. 

Apparently,  his  master's  reception  of  the  card  had 
impressed  the  powdered-headed  footman  in  Sam's 


124  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

favour,  for  when  he  came  back  from  delivering  it,  he 
smiled  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  said  that  the  answer 
would  be  ready  directly. 

'Wery  good,'  said  Sam.  'Tell  the  old  gen'l'm'n 
not  to  put  himself  in  a  perspiration.  No  hurry,  six- 
foot.  I  've  had  my  dinner.' 

'You  dine  early,  sir,'  said  the  powdered-headed 
footman. 

'I  find  I  gets  on  better  at  supper  when  I  does,' 
replied  Sam. 

'Have  you  been  long  in  Bath,  sir?'  inquired  the 
powdered-headed  footman.  'I  have  not  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  of  you  before.' 

'I  haven't  created  any  wery  surprisin'  sensation 
here,  as  yet,'  rejoined  Sam,  'for  me  and  the  other 
fash'nables  only  come  last  night.' 

'Nice  place,  sir,'  said  the  powdered-headed  footman. 

'Seems  so,'  observed  Sam. 

'Pleasant  society,  sir,'  remarked  the  powdered- 
headed  footman.  'Very  agreeable  servants,  sir.' 

'I  should  think  they  wos,'  replied  Sam.  'Affable, 
unaffected,  say-nothin'-to-nobody  sort  o'  fellers.' 

'Oh,  very  much  so,  indeed,  sir,'  said  the  powdered- 
headed  footman,  taking  Sam's  remark  as  a  high  com- 
pliment. 'Very  much  so  indeed.  Do  you  do  any- 
thing in  this  way,  sir?'  inquired  the  tall  footman,  pro- 
ducing a  small  snuff-box  with  a  fox's  head  on  the 
top  of  it. 

'Not  without  sneezing,'  replied  Sam. 

'Why,  it  is  difficult,  sir,  I  confess,'  said  the  tall  foot- 
man. 'It  may  be  done  by  degrees,  sir.  Coffee  is  the 
best  practice.  I  carried  coffee,  sir,  for  a  long  time. 
It  looks  very  like  rappee,  sir.' 

Here,  a  sharp  peal  at  the  bell,  reduced  the 
powdered-headed  footman  to  the  ignominious  neces- 
sity of  putting  the  fox's  head  in  his  pocket,  ano 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  125 

hastening  with  a  humble  countenance  to  Mr.  Bantam's 
'study.'  By  the  bye,  who  ever  knew  a  man  who  never 
read  or  wrote  either,  who  hadn't  got  some  small  back 
parlour  which  he  would  call  a  study! 

'There  is  the  answer,  sir,'  said  the  powdered-headed 
footman.  'I  am  afraid  you  '11  find  it  inconveniently 
large.' 

'Don't  mention  it,'  said  Sam,  taking  a  letter  with 
a  small  enclosure.  'It 's  just  possible  as  exhausted 
nature  may  manage  to  surwive  it.' 

'I  hope  we  shall  meet  again,  sir,'  said  the  powdered- 
headed  footman,  rubbing  his  hands,  and  following 
Sam  out  to  the  door-step. 

*You  are  wery  obligin',  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'Now, 
don't  allow  yourself  to  be  fatigued  beyond  your 
powers ;  there  's  a  amiable  bein'.  Consider  what  you 
owe  to  societjr,  and  don't  let  yourself  be  injured  by 
too  much  work.  For  the  sake  o'  your  feller  creeturs, 
keep  yourself  as  quiet  as  you  can ;  only  think  what  a 
loss  you  would  be!'  with  these  pathetic  words,  Sam 
Weller  departed. 

'A  very  singular  young  man  that,'  said  the 
powdered-headed  footman,  looking  after  Mr.  Weller, 
with  a  countenance  which  clearly  showed  he  could 
make  nothing  of  him. 

Sam  said  nothing  at  all.  He  winked,  shook  his 
head,  smiled,  winked  again ;  and  with  an  expression  of 
countenance  which  seemed  to  denote  that  he  was 
greatly  amused  with  something  or  other,  walked 
merrily  away. 

At  precisely  twenty  minutes  before  eight  o'clock 
that  night,  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esq.,  the  Master 
of  the  Ceremonies,  emerged  from  his  chariot  at  the 
door  of  the  Assembly  Rooms  in  the  same  wig,  the 
same  teeth,  the  same  eye-glass,  the  same  watch  and 
seals,  the  same  rings,  the  same  shirt-pin,  and  the  same 


126  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

cane.  The  only  observable  alterations  in  his  appear- 
ance were,  that  he  wore  a  brighter  blue  coat,  with  a 
white  silk  lining:  black  tights,  black  silk  stockings, 
and  pumps,  and  a  white  waistcoat,  and  was,  if  possi- 
ble, just  a  thought  more  scented. 

Thus  attired,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  in 
strict  discharge  of  the  important  duties  of  his  all- 
important  office,  planted  himself  in  the  rooms  to  re- 
ceive the  company. 

Bath  being  full,  the  company  and  the  sixpences  for 
tea,  poured  in,  in  shoals.  In  the  ball-room,  the  long 
card-room,  the  octagonal  card-room,  the  staircases, 
and  the  passages,  the  hum  of  many  voices,  and  the 
sound  of  many  feet,  were  perfectly  bewildering. 
Dresses  rustled,  feathers  waved,  lights  shone,  and 
jewels  sparkled.  There  was  the  music — not  of  the 
quadrille  band,  for  it  had  not  yet  commenced;  but 
the  music  of  soft  tiny  footsteps,  with  now  and  then 
a  clear  merry  laugh — low  and  gentle,  but  very  pleas- 
ant to  hear  in  a  female  voice,  whether  in  Bath  or 
elsewhere.  Brilliant  eyes,  lighted  up  with  pleasur- 
able expectation,  gleamed  from  every  side;  and  look 
where  you  would,  some  exquisite  form  glided  grace- 
fully through  the  throng,  and  was  no  sooner  lost, 
than  it  was  replaced  by  another  as  dainty  and  be- 
witching. 

In  the  tea-room,  and  hovering  round  the  card- 
tables,  were  a  vast  number  of  queer  old  ladies  and 
decrepid  old  gentlemen,  discussing  all  the  small  talk 
and  scandal  of  the  day,  with  a  relish  and  gusto  which 
sufficiently  bespoke  the  intensity  of  the  pleasure  they 
derived  from  the  occupation.  Mingled  with  these 
groups,  were  three  or  four  match-making  mammas, 
appearing  to  be  wholly  absorbed  by  the  conversation 
in  which  they  were  taking  part,  but  failing  not  from 
time  to  time  to  cast  an  anxious  sidelong  glance  upon 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  127 

their  daughters,  who,  remembering  the  maternal  in- 
junction to  make  the  best  use  of  their  youth,  had  al- 
ready commenced  incipient  flirtations  in  the  mislaying 
of  scarves,  putting  on  gloves,  setting  down  cups,  and 
so  forth ;  slight  matters  apparently,  but  which  may  be 
turned  to  surprisingly  good  account  by  expert  prac- 
titioners. 

Lounging  near  the  doors,  and  in  remote  corners, 
were  various  knots  of  silly  young  men,  displaying 
various  varieties  of  puppyism  and  stupidity ;  amusing 
all  sensible  people  near  them  with  their  folly  and  con- 
ceit; and  happily  thinking  themselves  the  objects  of 
general  admiration.  A  wise  and  merciful  dispensa- 
tion which  no  good  man  will  quarrel  with. 

And  lastly,  seated  on  some  of  the  back  benches, 
where  they  had  already  taken  up  their  positions  for 
the  evening,  were  divers  unmarried  ladies  past  their 
grand  climacteric,  who,  not  dancing  because  there 
were  no  partners  for  them,  and  not  playing  cards 
lest  they  should  be  set  down  as  irretrievably  single, 
were  in  the  favourable  situation  of  being  able  to  abuse 
everybody  without  reflecting  on  themselves.  In 
short,  they  could  abuse  everybody,  because  everybody 
was  there.  It  was  a  scene  of  gaiety,  glitter,  and 
show;  of  richly-dressed  people,  handsome  mirrors, 
chalked  floors,  girandoles,  and  wax-candles;  and  in 
all  parts  of  the  scene,  gliding  from  spot  to  spot  in 
silent  softness,  bowing  obsequiously  to  this  party,  nod- 
ding familiarly  to  that,  and  smiling  complacently  on 
all,  was  the  sprucely  attired  person  of  Angelo  Cyrus 
Bantam,  Esquire,  Master  of  the  Ceremonies. 

'Stop  in  the  tea-room.  Take  your  sixpenn'orth. 
They  lay  on  hot  water,  and  call  it  tea.  Drink  it,' 
said  Mr.  Dowler,  in  a  loud  voice,  directing  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, who  advanced  at  the  head  of  the  little  party, 
with  Mrs.  Dowler  on  his  arm.  Into  the  tea-room  Mr. 


128  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Pickwick  turned;  and  catching  sight  of  him,  Mr. 
Bantam  corkscrewed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  and 
welcomed  him  with  ecstasy. 

'My  dear  sir,  I  am  highly  honoured.  Ba — ath  is 
favoured.  Mrs.  Dowler,  you  embellish  the  rooms. 
I  congratulate  you  on  your  feathers.  Re — mark- 
able!' 

'Anybody  here?'  inquired  Mr.  Dowler,  suspiciously. 

'Anybody !  The  elite  of  Ba — ath.  Mr.  Pickwick, 
do  you  see  the  lady  in  the  gauze  turban?' 

'The  fat  old  lady?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  inno- 
cently. 

'Hush,  my  dear  sir — nobody's  fat  or  old  in  Ba — ath. 
That 's  the  Dowager  Lady  Snuphanuph.' 

'Is  it  indeed?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No  less  a  person,  I  assure  you,'  said  the  Master  of 
the  Ceremonies.  'Hush.  Draw  a  little  nearer,  Mr. 
Pickwick.  You  see  the  splendidly  dressed  young 
man  coming  this  way  ?' 

'The  one  with  the  long  hair,  and  the  particularly 
small  forehead?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'The  same.  The  richest  young  man  in  Ba — ath  at 
this  moment.  Young  Lord  Mutanhed.' 

'You  don't  say  so  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes.  You  '11  hear  his  voice  in  a  moment,  Mr. 
Pickwick.  He  '11  speak  to  me.  The  other  gentle- 
man with  him,  in  the  red  under-waistcoat  and  dark 
moustache,  is  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  his 
bosom  friend.  How  do  you  do,  my  lord?' 

'Veway  hot,  Bantam,'  said  his  lordship. 

'It  is  very  warm,  my  lord,'  replied  the  M.C. 

'Confounded,'  assented  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crush- 
ton. 

'Have  you  seen  his  lordship's  mail-cart,  Bantam?' 
inquired  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  after  a  short 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  129 

pause,  during  which  young  Lord  Mutanhed  had  been 
endeavouring  to  stare  Mr.  Pickwick  out  of  counte- 
nance, and  Mr.  Crushton  had  been  reflecting  what 
subject  his  lordship  could  talk  about  best. 

'Dear  me,  no,'  replied  the  M.C.  'A  mail-cart! 
What  an  excellent  idea.  Re — markable !' 

'Gwacious  heavens!'  said  his  lordship,  'I  thought 
evewebody  had  seen  the  new  mail-cart ;  it 's  the  neat- 
est, pwettiest,  gwacefullest  thing  that  ever  wan  upon 
wheels.  Painted  wed,  with  a  cweam  piebald.' 

'With  a  real  box  for  the  letters,  and  all  complete,' 
said  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton. 

'And  a  little  seat  in  fwont,  with  an  iwon  wail,  for 
the  dwiver,'  added  his  lordship.  'I  dwove  it  over  to 
Bwistol  the  other  morning,  in  a  cwimson  coat,  with 
two  servants  widing  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind;  and 
confound  me  if  the  people  didn't  wush  out  of  their 
cottages,  and  awest  my  pwogwess,  to  know  if  I  wasn't 
the  post.  Glorwious,  glorwious!' 

At  this  anecdote  his  lordship  laughed  very  heartily, 
as  did  the  listeners,  of  course.  Then,  drawing  his 
arm  through  that  of  the  obsequious  Mr.  Crushton, 
Lord  Mutanhed  walked  away. 

'Delightful  young  man,  his  lordship,'  said  the 
Master  of  the  Ceremonies. 

'So  I  should  think,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  drily. 

The  dancing  having  commenced,  the  necessary  in- 
troductions having  been  made,  and  all  preliminaries 
arranged,  Angelo  Bantam  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  led  him  into  the  card-room. 

Just  at  the  very  moment  of  their  entrance,  the 
Dowager  Lady  Snuphanuph  and  two  other  ladies  of 
an  ancient  and  whist-like  appearance,  were  hovering 
over  an  unoccupied  card-table;  and  they  no  sooner 
set  eyes  upon  Mr.  Pickwick  under  the  convoy  of 


130 

Angelo  Bantam,  than  they  exchanged  glances  with 
each  other,  seeing  that  he  was  precisely  the  very  per- 
son they  wanted,  to  make  up  the  rubber. 

'My  dear  Bantam,'  said  the  Dowager  Lady  Snuph- 
anuph, coaxingly,  'find  us  some  nice  creature  to  make 
up  this  table ;  there  's  a  good  soul.'  Mr.  Pickwick 
happened  to  be  looking  another  way  at  the  moment, 
so  her  ladyship  nodded  her  head  towards  him,  and 
frowned  expressively. 

'My  friend  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  lady,  will  be  most 
happy,  I  am  sure,  re — markably  so,'  said  the  M.C., 
taking  the  hint.  'Mr.  Pickwick,  Lady  Snuphanuph 
— Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby — Miss  Bolo.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  each  of  the  ladies,  and,  find- 
ing escape  impossible,  cut.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Miss 
Bolo  against  Lady  Snuphanuph  and  Mrs.  Colonel 
Wugsby. 

As  the  trump  card  was  turned  up,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  second  deal,  two  young  ladies  hurried 
into  the  room,  and  took  their  stations  on  either  side 
of  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby's  chair,  where  they  waited 
patiently  until  the  hand  was  over. 

'Now,  Jane,'  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  turning 
to  one  of  the  girls,  'what  is  it  ?' 

'I  came  to  ask,  ma,  whether  I  might  dance  with 
the  youngest  Mr.  Crawley/  whispered  the  prettier 
and  younger  of  the  two. 

'Good   God,   Jane,   how   can  you   think  of  such 

things?'  replied  the  mamma,  indignantly.     'Haven't 

,  you  repeatedly  heard  that  his  father  has  eight  hundred 

a-year,  which  dies  with  him?     I  am  ashamed  of  you. 

Not  on  any  account.' 

'Ma,'  whispered  the  other,  who  was  much  older 
than  her  sister,  and  very  insipid  and  artificial,  'Lord 
Mutanhed  has  been  introduced  to  me.  I  said  I 
thought  I  wasn't  engaged,  ma.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  131 

'You  're  a  sweet  pet,  my  love,'  replied  Mrs.  Colonel 
Wugsby,  tapping  her  daughter's  cheek  with  her  fan, 
'and  are  always  to  be  trusted.  He  's  immensely  rich, 
my  dear.  Bless  you !'  With  these  words,  Mrs.  Colo- 
nel Wugsby  kissed  her  eldest  daughter  most  affec- 
tionately, and  frowning  in  a  warning  manner  upon 
the  other,  sorted  her  cards. 

Poor  Mr.  Pickwick !  he  had  never  played  with  three 
thorough-paced  female  card-players  before.  They 
were  so  desperately  sharp,  that  they  quite  frightened 
him.  If  he  played  a  wrong  card,  Miss  Bolo  looked 
a  small  armoury  of  daggers ;  if  he  stopped  to  consider 
which  was  the  right  one,  Lady  Snuphanuph  would 
throw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  and  smile  with  a 
mingled  glance  of  impatience  and  pity  to  Mrs.  Colo- 
nel Wugsby;  at  which  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby  would 
shrug  up  her  shoulders,  and  cough,  as  much  as  to 
say  she  wondered  whether  he  ever  would  begin. 
Then,  at  the  end  of  every  hand,  Miss  Bolo  would 
inquire  with  a  dismal  countenance  and  reproachful 
sigh,  why  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  returned  that  dia- 
mond, or  led  the  club,  or  roughed  the  spade,  or 
finessed  the  heart,  or  led  through  the  honour,  or 
brought  out  the  ace,  or  played  up  to  the  king,  or 
some  such  thing;  and  in  reply  to  all  these  grave 
charges,  Mr.  Pickwick  would  be  wholly  unable  to 
plead  any  justification  whatever,  having  by  this  time 
forgotten  all  about  the  game.  People  came  and 
looked  on,  too,  which  made  Mr.  Pickwick  nervous. 
Besides  all  this,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  distracting 
conversation  near  the  table,  between  Angelo  Bantam 
and  the  two  Miss  Matinters,  who,  being  single  and 
singular,  paid  great  court  to  the  Master  of  the  Cere- 
monies, in  the  hope  of  getting  a  stray  partner  now 
and  then.  All  these  things,  combined  with  the  noises 
and  interruptions  of  constant  comings  in  and  goings 


132 

out,  made  Mr.  Pickwick  play  rather  badly;  the  cards 
were  against  him,  also;  and  when  they  left  off  at  ten 
minutes  past  eleven,  Miss  Bolo  rose  from  the  table 
considerably  agitated,  and  went  straight  home,  in  a 
flood  of  tears,  and  a  sedan-chair. 

Being  joined  by  his  friends,  who  one  and  all  pro- 
tested that  they  had  scarcely  ever  spent  a  more  pleas- 
ant evening,  Mr.  Pickwick  accompanied  them  to  the 
White  Hart,  and  having  soothed  his  feelings  with 
something  hot,  went  to  bed,  and  to  sleep,  almost 
simultaneously. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE  CHIEF  FEATURES  OF  WHICH,  WILL  BE  FOUND  TO 
BE  AN  AUTHENTIC  VERSION  OF  THE  LEGEND  OF 
PRINCE  BLADUD,  AND  A  MOST  EXTRAORDINARY  CA- 
LAMITY THAT  BEFEL  MR.  WINKLE 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  contemplated  a  stay  of  at  least  two 
months  in  Bath,  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  take  private 
lodgings  for  himself  and  friends  for  that  period ;  and 
as  a  favourable  opportunity  offered  for  their  securing, 
on  moderate  terms,  the  upper  portion  of  a  house  in 
the  Royal  Crescent,  wRich  was  larger  than  they  re- 
quired, Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dowler  offered  to  relieve  them 
of  a  bedroom  and  sitting-room.  This  proposition  was 
at  once  accepted,  and  in  three  days'  time  they  were  all 
located  in  their  new  abode,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  began 
to  drink  the  waters  with  the  utmost  assiduity.  Mr. 
Pickwick  took  them  systematically.  He  drank  a 
quarter  of  a  pint  before  breakfast,  and  then  walked 
up  a  hill;  and  another  quarter  of  a  pint  after  break- 
fast, and  then  walked  down  a  hill;  and  after  every 
fresh  quarter  of  a  pint,  Mr.  Pickwick  declared,  in  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  133 

most  solemn  and  emphatic  terms,  that  he  felt  a  great 
deal  better:  whereat  his  friends  were  very  much  de- 
lighted, though  they  had  not  been  previously  aware 
that  there  was  anything  the  matter  with  him. 

The  great  pump-room  is  a  spacious  saloon,  orna- 
mented with  Corinthian  pillars,  and  a  music  gallery, 
and  a  Tompion  clock,  and  a  statue  of  Nash,  and  a 
golden  inscription,  to  which  all  the  water-drinkers 
should  attend,  for  it  appeals  to  them  in  the  cause  of 
a  deserving  charity.  There  is  a  large  bar  with  a 
marble  vase,  out  of  which  the  pumper  gets  the  water; 
and  there  are  a  number  of  yellow-looking  tumblers, 
out  of  which  the  company  get  it;  and  it  is  a  most 
edifying  and  satisfactory  sight  to  behold  the  perse- 
verance and  gravity  with  which  they  swallow  it. 
There  are  baths  near  at  hand,  in  which  a  part  of  the 
company  wash  themselves;  and  a  band  plays  after- 
wards, to  congratulate  the  remainder  on  their  having 
done  so.  There  is  another  pump-room,  into  which 
infirm  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  wheeled,  in  such  an 
astonishing  variety  of  chairs  and  chaises,  that  any 
adventurous  individual  who  goes  in  with  the  regular 
number  of  toes,  is  in  imminent  danger  of  coming  out 
without  them;  and  there  is  a  third,  into  which  the 
quiet  people  go,  for  it  is  less  noisy  than  either. 
There  is  an  immensity  of  promenading,  on  crutches 
and  off,  with  sticks  and  without,  and  a  great  deal  of 
conversation,  and  liveliness,  and  pleasantry. 

Every  morning,  the  regular  water-drinkers,  Mr. 
Pickwick  among  the  number,  met  each  other  in  the 
pump-room,  took  their  quarter  of  a  pint,  and  walked 
constitutionally.  At  the  afternoon's  promenade,  Lord 
Mutanhed,  and  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  the 
Dowager  Lady  Snuphanuph,  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby, 
and  all  the  great  people,  and  all  the  morning  water- 
drinkers,  met  in  grand  assemblage.  After  this,  they 


134  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

walked  out,  or  drove  out,  or  were  pushed  out  in  Bath 
chairs,  and  met  one  another  again.  After  this,  the 
gentlemen  went  to  the  reading-rooms  and  met  divi- 
sions of  the  mass.  After  this,  they  went  home.  If 
it  were  theatre  night,  perhapt  they  met  at  the  theatre ; 
if  it  were  assembly  night,  they  met  at  the  rooms; 
and  if  it  were  neither,  they  met  the  next  day.  A 
very  pleasant  routine,  with  perhaps  a  slight  tinge  of 
sameness. 

Mr.  Pickwick  wras  sitting  up  by  himself,  after  a 
day  spent  in  this  manner,  making  entries  in  his 
journal:  his  friends  having  retired  to  bed:  when  he 
was  roused  by  a  gentle  tap  at  the  room  door. 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  the 
landlady,  peeping  in;  'but  did  you  want  anything 
more,  sir?' 

'Nothing  more,  ma'am,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'My  young  girl  is  'gone  to  bed,  sir,'  said  Mrs.  Crad- 
dock; 'and  Mr.  Dowler  is  good  enough  to  say  that 
he  '11  sit  up  for  Mrs.  Dowrler,  as  the  party  isn't  ex- 
pected to  be  over  till  late;  so  I  was  thinking  if  you 
wanted  nothing  more,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  would  go  to 
bed.' 

'By  all  means,  ma'am,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wish  you  good  night,  sir,'  said  Mrs.  Craddock. 

'Good  night,  ma'am,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mrs.  Craddock  closed  the  door,  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
resumed  his  writing. 

In  half  an  hour's  time  the  entries  wrere  concluded. 
Mr.  Pickwick  carefully  rubbed  the  last  page  on  the 
blotting-paper,  shut  up  the  book,  wiped  his  pen  on 
the  bottom  of  the  inside  of  his  coat-tail,  and  opened 
the  drawer  of  the  inkstand  to  put  it  carefully  away. 
There  were  a  couple  of  sheets  of  writing-paper, 
pretty  closely  written  over,  in  the  inkstand  drawer, 
and  they  were  folded  so,  that  the  title,  which  was  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  135 

a  good  round  hand,  was  fully  disclosed  to  him.  See- 
ing from  this,  that  it  was  no  private  document:  and 
as  it  seemed  to  relate  to  Bath,  and  was  very  short: 
Mr.  Pickwick  unfolded  it,  lighted  his  bed-room 
candle,  that  it  mi'ght  burn  up  well  by  the  time  he 
finished ;  and  drawing  his  chair  nearer  the  fire,  read  as 
follows : — 

THE  TRUE  LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  BLADUD 

'Less  than  two  hundred  years  agone,  on  one  of  the 
public  baths  in  this  city,  there  appeared  an  inscription 
in  honour  of  its  mighty  founder,  the  renowned  Prince 
Bladud.  That  inscription  is  now  erased. 

'For  many  hundred  years  before  that  time,  there 
had  been  handed  down,  from  age  to  age,  an  old 
legend,  that  the  illustrious  Prince  being  afflicted  with 
leprosy,  on  his  return  from  reaping  a  rich  harvest  of 
knowledge  in  Athens,  shunned  the  court  of  his  royal 
father,  and  consorted  moodily  with  husbandmen  and 
pigs.  Among  the  herd  (so  said  the  legend)  was  a 
pig  of  grave  and  solemn  countenance,  with  whom  the 
Prince  had  a  fellow-feeling — for  he  too  was  wise — a 
pig  of  thoughtful  and  reserved  demeanour;  an  ani- 
mal superior  to  his  fellows,  whose  grunt  was  terrible, 
and  whose  bite  was  sharp.  The  young  Prince  sighed 
deeply  as  he  looked  upon  the  countenance  of  the  ma- 
jestic swine;  he  thought  of  his  royal  father,  and  his 
eyes  were  bedewed  with  tears. 

'This  sagacious  pig  was  fond  of  bathing  in  rich, 
moist  mud.  Not  in  summer,  as  common  pigs  do,  now, 
to  cool  themselves,  and  did  even  in  those  distant  ages 
(which  is  a  proof  that  the  light  of  civilisation  had 
already  begun  to  dawn,  though  feebly),  but  in  the 
cold  sharp  days  of  winter.  His  coat  was  ever  so 
sleek,  and  his  complexion  so  clear,  that  the  Prince 
resolved  to  essay  the  purifying  qualities  of  the  same 


136 

water  that  his  friend  resorted  to.  He  made  the 
trial.  Beneath  that  black  mud  bubbled  the  hot 
springs  of  Bath.  He  washed,  and  was  cured. 
Hastening  to  his  father's  court,  he  paid  his  best  re- 
spects, and  returning  quickly  hither,  founded  this 
city,  and  its  famous  baths. 

'He  sought  the  pig  with  all  the  ardour  of  their 
early  friendship — but,  alas!  the  waters  had  been  his 
death.  He  had  imprudently  taken  a  bath  at  too  high 
a  temperature,  and  the  natural  philosopher  was  no 
more!  He  was  succeeded  by  Pliny,  who  also  fell  a 
victim  to  his  thirst  for  knowledge. 

'This  was  the  legend.     Listen  to  the  true  one. 

*A  great  many  centuries  since,  there  flourished,  in 
great  state,  the  famous  and  renowned  Lud  Hudibras, 
king  of  Britain.  He  was  a  mighty  monarch.  The 
earth  shook  when  he  walked:  he  was  so  very  stout. 
His  people  basked  in  the  light  of  his  countenance :  it 
was  so  red  and  glowing.  He  was,  indeed,  every  inch 
a  king.  And  there  were  a  good  many  inches  of  him 
too,  for  although  he  was  not  very  tall,  he  was  a  re- 
markable size  round,  and  the  inches  that  he  wanted 
in  height,  he  made  up  in  circumference.  If  any  de- 
generate monarch  of  modern  times  could  be  in  any 
way  compared  with  him,  I  should  say  the  venerable 
King  Cole  would  be  that  illustrious  potentate. 

'This  good  king  had  a  queen,  who  eighteen  years 
before,  had  had  a  son,  who  was  called  Bladud.  He 
was  sent  to  a  preparatory  seminary  in  his  father's 
dominions  until  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  was  then 
despatched,  in  charge  of  a  trusty  messenger,  to  a 
finishing  school  at  Athens;  and  as  there  was  no  extra 
charge  for  remaining  during  the  holidays,  and  no 
notice  required  previous  to  the  removal  of  a  pupil, 
there  he  remained  for  eight  long  years,  at  the  expira- 
tion of  which  time,  the  king  his  father  sent  the  lord 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  137 

chamberlain  over,  to  settle  the  bill,  and  to  bring  him 
home :  which,  the  lord  chamberlain  doing,  was  received 
with  shouts,  and  pensioned  immediately. 

'When  King  Lud  saw  the  Prince  his  son,  and  found 
he  had  grown  up  such  a  fine  young  man,  he  perceived 
at  once  what  a  grand  thing  it  would  be  to  have  him 
married  without  delay,  so  that  his  children  might  be 
the  means  of  perpetuating  the  glorious  race  of  Lud, 
down  to  the  very  latest  ages  of  the  world.  With  this 
view,  he  sent  a  special  embassy,  composed  of  great 
noblemen  who  had  nothing  particular  to  do,  and 
wanted  lucrative  employment,  to  a  neighbouring  king, 
and  demanded  his  fair  daughter  in  marriage  for  his 
son:  stating  at  the  same  time  that  he  was  anxious  to 
be  on  the  most  affectionate  terms  with  his  brother  and 
friend,  but  that  if  they  couldn't  agree  in  arranging 
this  marriage,  he  should  be  under  the  unpleasant 
necessity  of  invading  his  kingdom  and  putting  his 
eyes  out.  To  this,  the  other  king  (who  was  the 
weaker  of  the  two)  replied,  that  he  was  very  much 
obliged  to  his  friend  and  brother  for  all  his  goodness 
and  magnanimity,  and  that  his  daughter  was  quite 
ready  to  be  married,  whenever  Prince  Bladud  liked  to 
come  and  fetch  her. 

'This  answer  no  sooner  reached  Britain,  than  the 
whole  nation  were  transported  with  joy.  Nothing 
was  heard,  on  all  sides,  but  the  sounds  of  feasting  and 
revelry, — except  the  chinking  of  money  as  it  was  paid 
in  by  the  people  to  the  collector  of  the  Royal  Treas- 
uries, to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  happy  ceremony. 
It  was  upon  this  occasion  that  King  Lud,  seated  on 
the  top  of  his  throne  in  full  council,  rose,  in  the  ex- 
uberance of  his  feelings,  and  commanded  the  lord 
chief  justice  to  order  in  the  richest  wines  and  the  court 
minstrels:  an  act  of  graciousness  which  has  been, 
through  the  ignorance  of  traditionary  historians,  at- 


138 

tributed  to  King  Cole,  in  those  celebrated  lines  in 
which  his  majesty  is  represented  as 

Calling  for  his  pipe,  and  calling  for  his  pot, 
And  calling  for  his  fiddlers  three. 

Which  is  an  obvious  injustice  to  the  memory  of  King 
Lud,  and  a  dishonest  exaltation  of  the  virtues  of  King 
Cole. 

'But,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  festivity  and  rejoicing, 
there  was  one  individual  present,  who  tasted  not  wrhen 
the  sparkling  wines  were  poured  forth,  and  who 
danced  not,  when  the  minstrels  played.  This  was  no 
other  than  Prince  Bladud  himself,  in  honour  of  whose 
happiness  a  whole  people  were  at  that  very  moment, 
straining  alike  their  throats  and  purse-strings.  The 
truth  wras,  that  the  Prince,  forgetting  the  undoubted 
right  of  the  minister  for  foreign  affairs  to  fall  in  love 
on  his  behalf,  had,  contrary  to  every  precedent  of 
policy  and  diplomacy,  already  fallen  in  love  on  his 
own  account,  and  privately  contracted  himself  unto 
the  fair  daughter  of  a  noble  Athenian. 

'Here  we  have  a  striking  example  of  one  of  the 
manifold  advantages  of  civilisation  and  refinement. 
If  the  Prince  had  lived  in  later  days,  he  might  at 
once  have  married  the  object  of  his  father's  choice, 
and  then  set  himself  seriously  to  work,  to  relieve  him- 
self of  the  burden  which  rested  heavily  upon  him. 
He  might  have  endeavoured  to  break  her  heart  by  a 
systematic  course  of  insult  and  neglect;  or,  if  the 
spirit  of  her  sex,  and  a  proud  consciousness  of  her 
many  wrongs  had  upheld  her  under  this  ill  treatment, 
he  might  have  sought  to  take  her  life,  and  so  get  rid 
of  her  effectually.  But  neither  mode  of  relief  sug- 
gested itself  to  Prince  Bladud;  so  he  solicited  a 
private  audience,  and  told  his  father. 

'It  is  an  old  prerogative  of  kings  to  govern  every- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  139 

thing  but  their  passions.  King  Lud  flew  into  a 
frightful  rage,  tossed  his  crown  up  to  the  ceiling,  and 
caught  it  again — for  in  those  days  kings  kept  their 
crowns  on  their  heads,  and  not  in  the  Tower — stamped 
on  the  ground,  rapped  his  forehead,  wondered  why 
his  own  flesh  and  blood  rebelled  against  him,  and, 
finally,  calling  in  his  guards,  ordered  the  Prince  away 
to  instant  confinement  in  a  lofty  turret;  a  course  of 
treatment  which  the  kings  of  old  very  generally  pur- 
sued towards  their  sons,  when  their  matrimonial  in- 
clinations did  not  happen  to  point  to  the  same  quarter 
as  their  own. 

'When  Prince  Bladud  had  been  shut  up  in  the 
lofty  turret  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year,  with  no 
better  prospect  before  his  bodily  eyes  than  a  stone 
wall,  or  before  his  mental  vision  than  prolonged  im- 
prisonment, he  naturally  began  to  ruminate  on  a  plan 
of  escape,  which,  after  months  of  preparation,  he 
managed  to  accomplish;  considerately  leaving  his 
dinner-knife  in  the  heart  of  his  gaoler,  lest  the  poor 
fellow  (who  had  a  family)  should  be  considered  privy 
to  his  flight,  and  punished  accordingly  by  the  infuri- 
ated king. 

'The  monarch  was  frantic  at  the  loss  of  his  son. 
He  knew  not  on  whom  to  vent  his  grief  and  wrath, 
until  fortunately  bethinking  himself  of  the  lord 
chamberlain  who  had  brought  him  home,  he  struck  off 
his  pension  and  his  head  together. 

'Meanwhile,  the  young  Prince,  effectually  dis- 
guised, wandered  on  foot  through  his  father's  do- 
minions, cheered  and  supported  in  all  his  hardships  by 
sweet  thoughts  of  the  Athenian  maid,  who  was  the 
innocent  cause  of  his  weary  trials.  One  day  he 
stopped  to  rest  in  a  country  village;  and  seeing  that 
there  were  gay  dances  going  forward  on  the  green, 
and  gay  faces  passing  to  and  fro,  ventured  to  inquire 


140  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

of  a  reveller  who  stood  near  him,  the  reason  for  this 
rejoicing. 

"Know  you  not,  O  stranger,"  was  the  reply,  "of 
the  recent  proclamation  of  our  gracious  king?" 

'  "Proclamation!  No.  What  proclamation?"  re- 
joined the  Prince — for  he  had  travelled  along  the  bye 
and  little-frequented  ways,  and  knew  nothing  of  what 
had  passed  upon  the  public  roads,  such  as  they  were. 

*  "Why,"  replied  the  peasant,  "the  foreign  lady 
that  our  Prince  wished  to  wed,  is  married  to  a  foreign 
noble  of  her  own  country;  and  the  king  proclaims 
the  fact,  and  a  great  public  festival  besides ;  for  now, 
of  course,  Prince  Bladud  will  come  back  and  marry 
the  lady  his  father  chose,  who  they  say  is  as  beautiful 
as  the  noonday  sun.  Your  health,  sir.  God  save  the 
King!" 

'The  Prince  remained  to  hear  no  more.  He  fled 
from  the  spot,  and  plunged  into  the  thickest  recesses 
of  a  neighbouring  wood.  On,  on,  he  wandered,  night 
and  day:  beneath  the  blazing  sun,  and  the  cold  pale 
moon:  through  the  dry  heat  of  noon,  and  the  damp 
cold  of  night:  in  the  grey  light  of  morn  and  the  red 
glare  of  eve.  So  heedless  was  he  of  time  or  object, 
that  being  bound  for  Athens,  he  wandered  as  far  out 
of  his  way  as  Bath. 

'There  was  no  city  where  Bath  stands,  then.  There 
was  no  vestige  of  human  habitation,  or  sign  of  man's 
resort,  to  bear  the  name ;  but  there  was  the  same  noble 
country,  the  same  broad  expanse  of  hill  and  dale,  the 
same  beautiful  channel  stealing  on,  far  away :  the  same 
lofty  mountains  which,  like  the  troubles  of  life, 
viewed  at  a  distance,  and  partially  obscured  by  the 
bright  mist  of  its  morning,  lose  their  ruggedness  and 
asperity,  and  seem  all  ease  and  softness.  Moved  by 
the  gentle  beauty  of  the  scene,  the  Prince  sank  upon 
the  green  turf,  and  bathed  his  swollen  feet  in  his  tears. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  141 


"Oh!"  said  the  unhappy  Bladud,  clasping  his 
hands,  and  mournfully  raising  his  eyes  towards  the 
sky,  "would  that  my  wanderings  might  end  here! 
Would  that  these  grateful  tears  with  which  I  now 
mourn  hope  misplaced,  and  love  despised,  might  flow 
in  peace  for  ever!" 

'The  wish  was  heard.  It  was  in  the  time  of  the 
heathen  deities,  who  used  occasionally  to  take  people 
at  their  words,  with  a  promptness,  in  some  cases  ex- 
tremely awkward.  The  ground  opened  beneath  the 
Prince's  feet;  he  sunk  into  the  chasm;  and  instan- 
taneously it  closed  upon  his  head  for  ever,  save  where 
his  hot  tears  welled  up  through  the  earth,  and  where 
they  have  continued  to  gush  forth  ever  since. 

'It  is  observable  that,  to  this  day,  large  numbers  of 
elderly  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  procuring  partners,  and  almost  as  many 
young  ones  who  are  anxious  to  obtain  them,  repair, 
annually,  to  Bath  to  drink  the  waters,  from  which 
they  derive  much  strength  and  comfort.  This  is 
most  complimentary  to  the  virtue  of  Prince  Bladud's 
tears,  and  strongly  corroborative  of  the  veracity  of 
this  legend.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  yawned,  several  times,  when  he  had 
arrived  at  the  end  of  this  little  manuscript :  carefully 
refolded,  and  replaced  it  in  the  inkstand  drawer:  and 
then,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  the  utmost 
weariness,  lighted  his  chamber  candle,  and  went  up- 
stairs to  bed. 

He  stopped  at  Mr.  Dowler's  door,  according  to 
custom,  and  knocked  to  say  good  night. 

'Ah!'  said  Dowler,  'going  to  bed?  I  wish  I  was. 
Dismal  night.  Windy;  isn't  it?' 

'Very,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Good  night.' 

'Good  night.' 


142  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Pickwick  went  to  his  bed-chamber,  and  Mr. 
Dowler  resumed  his  seat  before  the  fire,  in  fulfilment 
of  his  rash  promise  to  sit  up  till  his  wife  came  home. 

There  are  few  things  more  worrying  than  sitting 
up  for  somebody,  especially  if  that  somebody  be  at  a 
party.  You  cannot  help  thinking  how  quickly  the 
time  passes  with  them,  which  drags  so  heavily  with 
you;  and  the  more  you  think  of  this,  the  more  your 
hopes  of  their  speedy  arrival  decline.  Clocks  tick  so 
loud,  too,  when  you  are  sitting  up  alone,  and  you 
seem  as  if  you  had  an  undergarment  of  cobwebs  on. 
First,  something  tickles  your  right  knee,  and  then  the 
same  sensation  irritates  your  left.  You  have  no 
sooner  changed  your  position,  than  it  comes  again  in 
the  arms;  when  you  have  fidgeted  your  limbs  into  all 
sorts  of  odd  shapes,  you  have  a  sudden  relapse  in  the 
nose,  which  you  rub  as  if  to  rub  it  off — as  there  is 
no  doubt  you  would,  if  you  could.  Eyes,  too,  are  mere 
personal  inconveniences;  and  the  wick  of  one  can- 
dle gets  an  inch  and  a  half  long,  while  you  are  snuf- 
fing the  other.  These,  and  various  other  little  nerv- 
ous annoyances,  render  sitting  up  for  a  length  of 
time  after  everybody  else  has  gone  to  bed,  anything 
but  a  cheerful  amusement. 

This  was  just  Mr.  Dowler's  opinion,  as  he  sat  be- 
fore the  fire,  and  felt  honestly  indignant  with  all  the 
inhuman  people  at  the  party  who  were  keeping  him 
up.  He  was  not  put  into  better  humour  either,  by 
the  reflection  that  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head,  early 
in  the  evening,  to  think  he  had  got  an  ache  there,  and 
so  stopped  at  home.  At  length,  after  several  drop- 
pings asleep,  and  fallings  forward  towards  the  bars, 
and  catchings  backward  soon  enough  to  prevent  being 
branded  in  the  face,  Mr.  Dowler  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  would  throw  himself  on  the  bed  in  the  back- 
room and  think — not  sleep,  of  course. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  143 

'I  'm  a  heavy  sleeper,'  said  Mr.  Dowler,  as  he  flung 
himself  on  the  bed.  'I  must  keep  awake.  I  suppose 
I  shall  hear  a  knock  here.  Yes.  I  thought  so.  I 
can  hear  the  watchman.  There  he  goes.  Fainter 
now  though.  A  little  fainter.  He 's  turning  the 
corner.  Ah!'  When  Mr.  Dowler  arrived  at  this 
point,  he  turned  the  corner  at  which  he  had  been  long 
hesitating,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

Just  as  the  clock  struck  three,  there  was  blown  into 
the  Crescent  a  sedan-chair  with  Mrs.  Dowler  inside, 
borne  by  one  short  fat  chairman,  and  one  long  thin 
one,  who  had  had  much  ado  to  keep  their  bodies  per- 
pendicular :  to  say  nothing  of  the  chair.  But  on  that 
high  ground,  and  in  the  Crescent,  which  the  wind 
swept  round  and  round  as  if  it  were  going  to  tear  the 
paving  stones  up,  its  fury  was  tremendous.  They 
were  very  glad  to  set  the  chair  down,  and  give  a  good 
round  loud  double  knock  at  the  street-door. 

They  waited  some  time,  but  nobody  came. 

'Servants  is  in  the  arms  o'  Porpus,  I  think,'  said  the 
short  chairman,  warming  his  hands  at  the  attendant 
link-boy's  torch. 

'I  wish  he  'd  give  'em  a  squeeze  and  wake  'em,' 
observed  the  long  one. 

'Knock  again,  will  you,  if  you  please,'  cried  Mrs. 
Dowler  from  the  chair.  'Knock  two  or  three  times,  if 
you  please.' 

The  short  man  was  quite  willing  to  get  the  job  over 
as  soon  as  possible ;  so  he  stood  on  the  step,  and  gave 
four  or  five  most  startling  double  knocks,  of  eight 
or  ten  knocks  a  piece:  while  the  long  man  went 
into  the  road,  and  looked  up  at  the  windows  for  a 
light. 

Nobody  came.     It  was  all  silent  and  dark  as  ever. 

'Dear  me!'  said  Mrs.  Dowler.  'You  must  knock 
again,  if  you  please.' 


144  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'There  ain't  a  bell,  is  there,  ma'am?'  said  the  short 
chairman. 

'Yes,  there  is/  interposed  the  link-boy,  'I  Ve  been 
ringing  at  it  ever  so  long.' 

'It 's  only  a  handle/  said  Mrs.  Dowler,  'the  wire  's 
broken.' 

'I  wish  the  servants'  heads  wos/  growled  the  long 
man. 

'I  must  trouble  you  to  knock  again,  if  you  please/ 
said  Mrs.  Dowler  with  the  utmost  politeness. 

The  short  man  did  knock  again  several  times,  with- 
out producing  the  smallest  effect.  The  tall  man, 
growing  very  impatient,  then  relieved  him,  and  kept 
on  perpetually  knocking  double  knocks  of  two  loud 
knocks  each,  like  an  insane  postman. 

At  length  Mr.  Winkle  began  to  dream  that  he  was 
at  a  club,  and  that  the  members  being  very  refractory, 
the  chairman  was  obliged  to  hammer  the  table  a  good 
deal  to  preserve  order;  then,  he  had  a  confused  notion 
of  an  auction  room  where  there  were  no  bidders,  and 
the  auctioneer  was  buying  everything  in;  and  ulti- 
mately he  began  to  think  it  just  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  that  somebody  might  be  knocking  at  the 
street-door.  To  make  quite  certain,  however,  he  re- 
mained quiet  in  bed  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  lis- 
tened; and  when  he  had  counted  two  or  three  and 
thirty  knocks,  he  felt  quite  satisfied,  and  gave  himself 
a  great  deal  of  credit  for  being  so  wakeful. 

'Rap  rap — rap  rap — rap  rap — ra,  ra,  ra,  ra,  ra,  rap !' 
went  the  knocker. 

Mr.  Winkle  jumped  out  of  bed,  wondering  very 
much  what  could  possibly  be  the  matter,  and  hastily 
putting  on  his  stockings  and  slippers,  folded  his 
dressing-gown  round  him,  lighted  a  flat  candle  from 
the  rushlight  that  was  burning  in  the  fire-place,  and 
hurried  downstairs. 


,    WINKLE'S   SITUATION-THE  DOOR    <<BLEW-TO. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  145 

'Here  's  somebody  comin'  at  last,  ma'am,'  said  the 
short  chairman. 

'I  wish  I  wos  behind  him  vith  a  bradawl,'  muttered 
the  long  one. 

Who's  there?'  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  undoing  the 
chain. 

'Don't  stop  to  ask  questions,  cast-iron  head,'  replied 
the  long  man,  with  great  disgust,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  the  inquirer  was  a  footman;  'but  open 
the  door.' 

'Come,  look  sharp,  timber  eye-lids,'  added  the  other 
encouragingly. 

Mr.  Winkle,  being  half  asleep,  obeyed  the  com- 
mand mechanically,  opened  the  door  a  little,  and 
peeped  out.  The  first  thing  he  saw,  was  the  red  glare 
of  the  link-bojr's  torch.  Startled  by  the  sudden  fear 
that  the  house  might  be  on  fire,  he  hastily  threw  the 
door  wide  open,  and  holding  the  candle  above  his 
head,  stared  eagerly  before  him,  not  quite  certain 
whether  what  he  saw  was  a  sedan-chair  or  a  fire  en- 
gine. At  this  instant  there  came  a  violent  gust  of 
wind ;  the  light  was  blown  out ;  Mr.  Winkle  felt  him- 
self irresistibly  impelled  on  to  the  steps ;  and  the  door 
blew  to,  with  a  loud  crash. 

'Well,  young  man,  now  you  have  done  it !'  said  the 
short  chairman. 

Mr.  Winkle,  catching  sight  of  a  lady's  face  at  the 
window  of  the  sedan,  turned  hastily  round,  plied  the 
knocker  with  all  his  might  and  main,  and  called 
frantically  upon  the  chairman  to  take  the  chair  away 
again. 

'Take  it  away,  take  it  away,'  cried  Mr.  Winkle. 
'Here  's  somebody  coming  out  of  another  house;  put 
me  into  the  chair.  Hide  me!  Do  something  with 
me!' 

All  this  time  he  was  shivering  with  cold;  and  every 


146  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

time  he  raised  his  hand  to  the  knocker,  the  wind  took 
the  dressing-gown  in  a  most  unpleasant  manner. 

'The  people  are  coming  down  the  Crescent  now. 
There  are  ladies  with  'em;  cover  me  up  with  some- 
thing. Stand  before  me!'  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  But 
the  chairmen  were  too  much  exhausted  with  laughing 
to  afford  him  the  slightest  assistance,  and  the  ladies 
were  every  moment  approaching  nearer  and  nearer. 

Mr.  Winkle  gave  a  last  hopeless  knock;  the  ladies 
were  only  a  few  doors  off.  He  threw  away  the  ex- 
tinguished candle,  which,  all  this  time,  he  had  held 
above  his  head,  and  fairly  bolted  into  the  sedan-chair 
where  Mrs.  Dowler  was. 

Now,  Mrs.  Craddock  had  heard  the  knocking  and 
the  voices  at  last ;  and,  only  waiting  to  put  something 
smarter  on  her  head  than  her  night-cap,  ran  down 
into  the  front  drawing-room  to  make  sure  that  it  was 
the  right  party.  Throwing  up  the  window-sash  as 
Mr.  Winkle  was  rushing  into  the  chair,  she  no  sooner 
caught  sight  of  what  was  going  forward  below,  than 
she  raised  a  vehement  and  dismal  shriek,  and  implored 
Mr.  Dowler  to  get  up  directly,  for  his  wife  was  run- 
ning away  with  another  gentleman. 

Upon  this,  Mr.  Dowler  bounced  off  the  bed  as  ab- 
ruptly as  an  India-rubber  ball,  and  rushing  into  the 
front  room,  arrived  at  one  window  just  as  Mr.  Pick- 
wick threw  up  the  other;  when  the  first  object  that 
met  the  gaze  of  both,  was  Mr.  Winkle  bolting  into 
the  sedan-chair. 

'Watchman,'  shouted  Dowler  furiously;  'stop  him 
—hold  him — keep  him  tight — shut  him  in,  till  I  come 
down.  I  '11  cut  his  throat — give  me  a  knife — from 
ear  to  ear,  Mrs.  Craddock — I  will!'  And  breaking 
from  the  shrieking  landlady,  and  from  Mr.  Pickwick, 
the  indignant  husband  seized  a  small  supper-knife, 
and  tore  into  the  street. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  147 

But  Mr.  Winkle  didn't  wait  for  him.  He  no 
sooner  heard  the  horrible  threat  of  the  valorous  Dow- 
ler,  than  he  bounced  out  of  the  sedan,  quite  as  quickly 
as  he  had  bounced  in,  and  throwing  off  his  slippers 
into  the  road,  took  to  his  heels  and  tore  round  the 
Crescent,  hotly  pursued  by  Dowler  and  the  watch- 
man. He  kept  ahead;  the  door  was  open  as  he  came 
round  the  second  time;  he  rushed  in,  slammed  it  in 
Dowler's  face,  mounted  to  his  bed-room,  locked  the 
door,  piled  a  washhand-stand,  chest  of  drawers,  and 
table  against  it,  and  packed  up  a  few  necessaries 
ready  for  flight  with  the  first  ray  of  morning. 

Dowier  came  up  to  the  outside  of  the  door ;  avowed, 
through  the  keyhole,  his  stedfast  determination  of 
cutting  Mr.  Winkle's  throat  aext  day;  and,  after  a 
great  confusion  of  voices  in  the  drawing-room,  amidst 
which  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  distinctly  heard  en- 
deavouring to  make  peace,  the  inmates  dispersed  to 
their  several  bed-chambers,  and  all  was  quiet  once 
more. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  inquiry  may  be  made, 
where  Mr.  Weller  was,  all  this  time?  We  will  state 
where  he  was,  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

HONOURABLY  ACCOUNTS  FOR  MR.  WELLER's  ABSENCE, 
BY  DESCRIBING  A  SOIREE  TO  WHICH  HE  WAS  INVITED 
AND  WENT ;  ALSO  RELATES  HOW  HE  WAS  ENTRUSTED 
BY  MR.  PICKWICK  WITH  A  PRIVATE  MISSION  OF 
DELICACY  AND  IMPORTANCE 

'MR.  WELLER/  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  upon  the  morn- 
ing of  this  very  eventful  day,  'here's  a  letter  for 
you.' 


148  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Wery  odd  that,'  said  Sam,  'I  'm  afeerd  there  must 
be  somethin'  the  matter,  for  I  don't  recollect  any 
gen'l'm'n  in  my  circle  of  acquaintance  as  is  capable  o' 
writin'  one.' 

'Perhaps  something  uncommon  has  taken  place,' 
observed  Mrs.  Craddock. 

'It  must  be  somethin'  wery  uncommon  indeed,  as 
could  produce  a  letter  out  o'  any  friend  o'  mine,'  re- 
plied Sam,  shaking  his  head  dubiously;  'nothin'  less 
than  a  nat'ral  conwulsion,  as  the  young  gen'l'm'n 
observed  ven  he  wos  took  with  fits.  It  can't  be  from 
the  gov'ner,'  said  Sam,  looking  at  the  direction. 
'He  always  prints,  I  know,  'cos  he  learnt  writin'  from 
the  large  bills  in  the  bookin'  offices.  It 's  a  wery 
strange  thing  now,  where  this  here  letter  can  ha'  come 
from.' 

As  Sam  said  this,  he  did  what  a  great  many  people 
do  when  they  are  uncertain  about  the  writer  of  a  note, 
— looked  at  the  seal,  and  then  at  the  front,  and  then 
at  the  back,  and  then  at  the  sides,  and  then  at  the 
superscription;  and,  as  a  last  resource,  thought  per- 
haps he  might  as  well  look  at  the  inside,  and  try  to 
find  out  from  that. 

'It 's  wrote  on  gilt-edged  paper,'  said  Sam,  as  he 
unfolded  it,  'and  sealed  in  bronze  vax  vith  the  top  of 
a  door-key.  Now  for  it.'  And,  with  a  very  grave 
face,  Mr.  Weller  slowly  read  as  follows : — 

'A  select  company  of  the  Bath  footmen  presents 
their  compliments  to  Mr.  Weller,  and  requests  the 
pleasure  of  his  company  this  evening,  to  a  friendly 
swarry,  consisting  of  a  boiled  leg  of  mutton  with  the 
usual  trimmings.  The  swarry  to  be  on  table  at  half- 
past  nine  o'clock  punctually.' 

This  was  inclosed  in  another  note,  which  ran  thus — 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  149 

'Mr.  John  Smauker,  the  gentleman  who  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Weller  at  the  house  of  their 
mutual  acquaintance,  Mr.  Bantam,  a  few  days  since, 
begs  to  enclose  Mr.  Weller  the  herewith  invitation. 
If  Mr.  Weller  will  call  on  Mr.  John  Smauker  at 
nine  o'clock,  Mr.  John  Smauker  will  have  the  pleasure 
of  introducing  Mr.  Weller.  (Signed) 

MOHX  SMAUKER.' 

The  envelope  was  directed  to  blank  Weller,  Esq., 
at  Mr.  Pickwick's;  and  in  a  parenthesis,  in  the  left 
hand  corner,  were  the  words  'airy  bell,'  as  an  instruc- 
tion to  the  bearer. 

'Veil/  said  Sam,  'this  is  comin'  it  rayther  power- 
ful, this  is.  I  never  heerd  a  biled  leg  o'  mutton  called 
a  swarry  afore.  I  wonder  wot  they  'd  call  a  roast 
one.' 

However,  without  waiting  to  debate  the  point,  Sam 
at  once  betook  himself  into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, and  requested  leave  of  absence  for  that  evening, 
which  was  readily  granted.  With  this  permission, 
and  the  street-door  key,  Sam  Weller  issued  forth  a 
little  before  the  appointed  time,  and  strolled  leisurely 
towards  Queen  Square,  which  he  no  sooner  gained 
than  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  beholding  Mr.  John 
Smauker  leaning  his  powdered  head  against  a  lamp- 
post at  a  short  distance  off,  smoking  a  cigar  through 
an  amber  tube. 

'How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller?'  said  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  raising  his  hat  gracefully  with  one  hand, 
while  he  gently  waved  the  other  in  a  condescending 
manner.  'How  do  you  do,  sir?' 

'Why,  reasonably  conwalessent,'  replied  Sam. 
'How  do  you  find  yourself,  my  dear  feller?' 

'Only  so  so,'  said  Mr.  John  Smauker. 

'Ah,  you've  been  a  workin'  too  hard,'  observed 


150  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Sam.  'I  was  fearful  you  would;  it  won't  do,  you 
know ;  you  must  not  give  way  to  that  'ere  uncompro- 
misin'  spirit  o'  your'n.' 

'It 's  not  so  much  that,  Mr.  Weller,'  replied  Mr. 
John  Smauker,  'as  bad  wine;  I  'm  afraid  I  've  been 
dissipating.' 

'Oh!  that's  it,  is  it?'  said  Sam;  'that 's  a  wery  bad 
complaint,  that.' 

'And  yet  the  temptation,  you  see,  Mr.  Weller,'  ob- 
served Mr.  John  Smauker. 

'Ah,  to  be  sure,'  said  Sam. 

'Plunged  into  the  very  vortex  of  society,  you  know, 
Mr.  Weller,'  said  Mr.  John  Smauker  with  a  sigh. 

'Dreadful  indeed!'  rejoined  Sam. 

'But  it 's  always  the  way,'  said  Mr.  John  Smauker ; 
'if  your  destiny  leads  you  into  public  life,  and  public 
'station,  you  must  expect  to  be  subjected  to  tempta- 
tions which  other  people  is  free  from,  Mr.  Weller.' 

'Precisely  what  my  uncle  said,  ven  he  vent  into  the 
public  line,'  remarked  Sam,  'and  wery  right  the  old 
gen'l'm'n  wos,  for  he  drank  his-self  to  death  in  some- 
thin'  less  than  a  quarter.' 

Mr.  John  Smauker  looked  deeply  indignant  at  any 
parallel  being  drawn  between  himself  and  the  de- 
ceased gentleman  in  question;  but  as  Sam's  face  was 
in  the  most  immovable  state  of  calmness,  he  thought 
better  of  it,  and  looked  affable  again. 

'Perhaps  we  had  better  be  walking,'  said  Mr. 
Smauker,  consulting  a  copper  time-piece  which 
dwelt  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  watch-pocket,  and  was 
raised  to  the  surface  by  means  of  a  black  string,  with 
a  copper  key  at  the  other  end. 

'P'raps  we  had,'  replied  Sam,  'or  they  '11  overdo 
the  swarry,  and  that  '11  spile  it.' 

'Have  you   drank  the  waters,   Mr.   Weller?'   in- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  151 

quired  his  companion,  as  they  walked  towards  High 
Street. 

'Once,'  replied  Sam. 

'What  did  you  think  of  'em,  sir?' 

'I  thought  they  wos  particklery  unpleasant,'  re- 
plied Sam. 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  'you  disliked  the 
killibeate  taste,  perhaps?' 

'I  don't  know  much  about  that  'ere,'  said  Sam.  'I 
thought  they  'd  a  wery  strong  flavour  o'  warm  flat 
irons.' 

'That  is  the  killibeate,  Mr.  Weller,'  observed  Mr. 
John  Smauker,  contemptuously. 

'Well,  if  it  is,  it 's  a  wery  inexpressive  word,  that 's 
all,'  said  Sam.  'It  may  be,  but  I  ain't  much  in  the 
chimical  line  myself,  so  I  can't  say.'  And  here,  to 
the  great  horror  of  Mr.  John  Smauker,  Sam  Weller 
began  to  whistle. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  agonised  at  the  exceedingly  ungenteel 
sound,  'will  you  take  my  arm?' 

'Thank  'ee,  you  're  wery  good,  but  I  won't  deprive 
you  of  it,'  replied  Sam.  'I  Ve  rayth«r  a  way  o' 
puttin'  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  if  it 's  all  the  same 
to  you.'  As  Sam  said  this,  he  suited  the  action  to  the 
word,  and  whistled  far  louder  than  before. 

'This  way,'  said  his  new  friend,  apparently  much 
relieved  as  they  turned  down  a  bye-street;  'we  shall 
soon  be  there.' 

'Shall  we?'  said  Sam,  quite  unmoved  by  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  close  vicinity  to  the  select  footmen 
of  Bath. 

'Yes,'     said    Mr.    John     Smauker.     'Don't    be 
alarmed,  Mr.  Weller.' 

'Oh  no,'  said  Sam. 


152  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'You  '11  see  some  very  handsome  uniforms,  Mr. 
Weller,'  contiued  Mr.  John  Smauker;  'and  perhaps 
you  '11  find  some  of  the  gentlemen  rather  high  at  first, 
you  know,  but  they  '11  soon  come  round.' 

'That 's  wery  kind  on  'em,'  replied  Sam. 

'And  you  know,'  resumed  Mr.  John  Smauker,  with 
an  air  of  sublime  protection ;  'you  know,  as  you  're  a 
stranger,  perhaps  they  '11  be  rather  hard  upon  you  at 
first.' 

'They  won't  be  wery  cruel,  though,  will  they?'  in- 
quired Sam. 

'No,  no,'  replied  Mr.  John  Smauker,  pulling  forth 
the  fox's  head,  and  taking  a  gentlemanly  pinch. 
'There  are  some  funny  dogs  among  us,  and  they  will 
have  their  joke,  you  know;  but  you  mustn't  mind  'em, 
you  mustn't  mind  'em.' 

'I  '11  try  and  bear  up  agin'  such  a  reg'lar  knock- 
down o'  talent,'  replied  Sam. 

'That 's  right,'  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  putting  up 
the  fox's  head,  and  elevating  his  own;  'I  '11  stand  by 
you.' 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  a  small  greengrocer's 
shop,  which  Mr.  John  Smauker  entered,  followed  by 
Sam:  who,  the  moment  he  got  behind  him,  relapsed 
into  a  series  of  the  very  broadest  and  most  unmiti- 
gated grins,  and  manifested  other  demonstrations  of 
being  in  a  highly  enviable  state  of  inward  merriment. 

Crossing  the  greengrocer's  shop,  and  putting  their 
hats  on  the  stairs  in  the  little  passage  behind  it,  they 
walked  into  a  small  parlour;  and  here  the  full 
splendour  of  the  scene  burst  upon  Mr.  Weller's  view. 

A  couple  of  tables  were  put  together  in  the  middle 
of  the  parlour,  covered  with  three  or  four  cloths  of 
different  ages  and  dates  of  washing,  arranged  to 
look  as  much  like  one  as  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  would  allow.  Upon  these  were  laid  knives  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  153 

forks  for  six  or  eight  people.  Some  of  the  knife 
handles  were  green,  others  red,  and  a  few  yellow; 
and  as  all  the  forks  were  black,  the  combination  of 
colours  was  exceedingly  striking.  Plates  for  a  cor- 
responding number  of  guests  were  warming  behind 
the  fender;  and  the  guests  themselves  were  warming 
before  it:  the  chief  and  most  important  of  whom 
appeared  to  be  a  stoutish  gentleman  in  a  bright 
crimson  coat  with  long  tails,  vividly  red  breeches,  and 
a  cocked  hat,  who  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
fire,  and  had  apparently  just  entered,  for  besides 
retaining  his  cocked  hat  on  his  head,  he  carried  in  his 
hand  a  high  stick,  such  as  gentlemen  of  his  profession 
usually  elevate  in  a  sloping  position  over  the  roofs  of 
carriages. 

'Smauker,  my  lad,  your  fin,'  said  the  gentleman 
with  the  cocked  hat. 

Mr.  Smauker  dovetailed  the  top  joint  of  his  right 
hand  little  finger  into  that  of  the  gentleman  with  the 
cocked  hat,  and  said  he  was  charmed  to  see  him  look- 
ing so  well. 

'Well,  they  tell  me  I  am  looking  pretty  blooming,' 
said  the  man  with  the  cocked  hat,  'and  it 's  a  wonder, 
too.  I  've  been  following  our  old  woman  about,  two 
hours  a-day,  for  the  last  fortnight;  and  if  a  constant 
contemplation  of  the  manner  in  which  she  hooks-and- 
eyes  that  infernal  lavender-coloured  old  gown  of  hers 
behind  isn't  enough  to  throw  anybody  into  a  low 
state  of  despondency  for  life,  stop  my  quarter's 
salary.' 

At  this,  the  assembled  selections  laughed  very 
heartily;  and  one  gentleman  in  a  yellow  waistcoat, 
with  a  coach  trimming  border,  whispered  a  neighbour 
in  green-foil  smalls,  that  Tuckle  was  in  spirits  to- 
night. 

'By  the  bye,'  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  'Smauker,  my  boy, 


154  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

you — '  The  remander  of  the  sentence  was  for- 
warded into  Mr.  John  Smauker's  ear  by  whisper. 

'Oh,  dear  me,  I  quite  forgot,'  said  Mr.  John 
Smauker.  'Gentlemen,  my  friend  Mr.  Weller.' 

'Sorry  to  keep  the  fire  off  you,  Weller,'  said  Mr. 
Tuckle,  with  a  familiar  nod.  'Hope  you  're  not  cold, 
Weller.' 

'Not  by  no  means,  Blazes,'  replied  Sam.  'It  'ud 
be  a  wery  chilly  subject  as  felt  cold  wen  you  stood 
opposit.  You  'd  save  coals,  if  they  put  you  behind 
the  fender  in  the  waitin'-room  at  a  public  office,  you 
would.' 

As  this  retort  appeared  to  convey  rather  a  per- 
sonal allusion  to  Mr.  Tuckle's  crimson  livery,  that 
gentleman  looked  majestic  for  a  few  seconds,  but 
gradually  edging  away  from  the  fire,  broke  into  a 
forced  smile,  and  said  it  wasn't  bad. 

'Wery  much  obliged  for  your  good  opinion,  sir,' 
replied  Sam.  'We  shall  get  on  by  degrees,  I  des-say. 
We  '11  try  a  better  one,  bye-and-bye.' 

At  this  point  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  a  gentleman  in  orange-coloured  plush, 
accompanied  by  another  selection  in  purple  cloth, 
with  a  great  extent  of  stocking.  The  new  comers 
having  been  welcomed  by  the  old  ones,  Mr.  Tuckle 
put  the  question  that  supper  be  ordered  in,  which  was 
carried  unanimously. 

The  greengrocer  and  his  wife  then  arranged  upon 
the  table  a  boiled  leg  of  mutton,  hot,  with  caper  sauce, 
turnips,  and  potatoes.  Mr.  Tuckle  took  the  chair, 
and  was  supported  at  the  other  end  of  the  board  by 
the  gentleman  in  orange  plush.  The  greengrocer 
put  on  a  pair  of  wash-leather  gloves  to  hand  the  plates 
with,  and  stationed  himself  behind  Mr.  Tuckle's 
chair. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  155 

'Harris,'  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  in  a  commanding  tone, 

'Sir,'  said  the  greengrocer. 

'Have  you  got  your  gloves  on?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'Then  take  the  kiver  off.' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

The  greengrocer  did  as  he  was  told,  with  a  show  of 
great  humility,  and  obsequiously  handed  Mr.  Tuckle 
the  carving  knife;  in  doing  which,  he  accidentally 
gaped. 

'What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Tuckle, 
with  great  asperity. 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  replied  the  crest-fallen 
greengrocer,  'I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  sir;  I  was  up 
very  late  last  night,  sir.' 

'I  tell  you  what  my  opinion  of  you  is,  Harris/  said 
Mr.  Tuckle  with  a  most  impressive  air,  'you  're  a  wul- 
gar  beast.' 

'I  hope,  gentlemen,'  said  Harris,  'that  you  won't 
be  severe  with  me,  gentlemen.  I  'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you  indeed,  gentlemen,  for  your  patron- 
age, and  also  for  your  recommendations,  gentlemen, 
whenever  additional  assistance  in  waiting  is  required. 
I  hope,  gentlemen,  I  give  satisfaction.' 

'No,  you  don't,  sir/  said  Mr.  Tuckle.  'Very  far 
from  it,  sir.' 

'We  consider  you  an  inattentive  reskel,'  said  the 
gentleman  in  the  orange  plush. 

'And  a  low  thief,'  added  the  gentleman  in  the 
green-foil  smalls. 

'And  an  unreclaimable  blaygaird,'  added  the  gen- 
tleman in  purple. 

The  poor  greengrocer  bowed  very  humbly  while 
these  little  epithets  were  bestowed  upon  him,  in  the 
true  spirit  of  the  very  smallest  tyranny;  and  when 


156  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

everybody  had  said  something  to  show  his  superiority, 
Mr.  Tuckle  proceeded  to  carve  the  leg  of  mutton,  and 
to  help  the  company. 

This  important  business  of  the  evening  had  hardly 
commenced,  when  the  door  was  thrown  briskly  open, 
and  another  gentleman  in  a  light-blue  suit,  and  leaden 
buttons,  made  his  appearance. 

'Against  the  rules,'  said  Mr.  Tuckle.  'Too  late, 
too  late.' 

'No,  no;  positively  I  couldn't  help  it,'  said  the 
gentleman  in  blue.  'I  appeal  to  the  company.  An 
affair  of  gallantry  now,  an  appointment  at  the 
theayter.' 

'Oh,  that  indeed/  said  the  gentleman  in  the  orange 
plush. 

'Yes;  raly  now,  honour  bright,'  said  the  man  in 
blue.  'I  made  a  promese  to  fetch  our  youngest 
daughter  at  half -past  ten,  and  she  is  such  an  un- 
<?auminly  fine  gal,  that  I  rely  hadn't  the  'art  to  disap- 
pint  her.  No  offence  to  the  present  company,  sir; 
but  a  petticut,  sir,  a  petticut,  sir,  is  irrevokeable.' 

'I  begin  to  suspect  there  's  something  in  that  quar- 
ter,' said  Tuckle,  as  the  new  comer  took  his  seat  next 
Sam.  'I  Ve  remarked,  once  or  twice,  that  she  leans 
very  heavy  on  your  shoulder  when  she  gets  in  and  out 
of  the  carriage.' 

'Oh  raly,  raly,  Tuckle,  you  shouldn't,'  said  the  man 
in  blue.  'It 's  not  fair.  I  may  have  said  to  one  or 
two  friends  that  she  was  a  very  divine  creechure,  and 
had  refused  one  or  two  offers  without  any  hobvus 
cause,  but — no,  no,  no,  indeed,  Tuckle — before  stran- 
gers, too — it 's  not  right — you  shouldn't.  Delicacy, 
my  dear  friend,  delicacy!'  And  the  man  in  blue,  pull- 
ing up  his  neckerchief,  and  adjusting  his  coat-cuffs, 
nodded  and  frowned  as  if  there  were  more  behind. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  157 

which  he  could  say  if  he  liked,  but  was  bound  in  hon- 
our to  suppress. 

The  man  in  blue  being  a  light-haired,  stiff-necked, 
free  and  easy  sort  of  footman,  with  a  swaggering  air 
and  pert  face,  had  attracted  Mr.  Weller's  especial 
attention  at  first,  but  when  he  began  to  come  out  in 
this  way,  Sam  felt  more  than  ever  disposed  to  cul- 
tivate his  acquaintance;  so  he  launched  himself  intc 
the  conversation  at  once,  with  characteristic  inde- 
pendence. 

'Your  health,  sir,'  said  Sam.  *I  like  your  conwer- 
sation  much.  I  think  it 's  wery  pretty.' 

At  this  the  man  in  blue  smiled,  as  if  it  were  a  com 
pliment  he  was  well  used  to;  but  looked  approvingly 
on  Sam  at  the  same  time,  and  said  he  hoped  he  should 
be  better  acquainted  with  him,  for  without  any  flat- 
tery at  all  he  seemed  to  have  the  makings  of  a  very 
nice  fellow  about  him,  and  to  be  just  the  man  after 
his  own  heart. 

'You  're  wery  good,  sir,'  said  Sam.  'What  a  lucky 
feller  you  are!' 

'How  do  you  mean?'  inquired  the  gentleman  in 
blue. 

'That  'ere  young  lady,'  replied  Sam.  'She  knows 
wot 's  wot,  she  does.  Ah!  I  see.'  Mr.  Weller  closed 
one  eye,  and  shook  his  head  from  side  to  side,  in  a 
manner  which  was  highly  gratifying  to  the  personal 
vanity  of  the  gentleman  in  blue. 

'I  'm  afraid  you  're  a  cunning  fellow,  Mr.  Weller,' 
said  that  individual. 

'No,  no,'  said  Sam.  'I  leave  all  that  'ere  to  you. 
It 's  a  great  deal  more  in  your  way  than  mine,  as  the 
gen'l'm'n  on  the  right  side  o'  the  garden  vail  said  to 
the  man  on  the  wrong  'un,  ven  the  mad  bull  vos  a 
jomin'  up  the  lane.' 


158 

'Well,  well,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  the  gentleman  in 
blue,  'I  think  she  has  remarked  my  air  and  manner, 
Mr.  Weller/ 

'I  should  think  she  couldn't  wery  well  be  off  o' 
that,'  said  Sam. 

'Have  you  any  little  thing  of  that  kind  in  hand, 
sir?'  inquired  the  favoured  gentleman  in  blue,  draw- 
ing a  toothpick  from  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

'Not  exactly,'  said  Sam.  'There  's  no  daughters  at 
my  place,  else  o'  course  I  should  ha'  made  up  to  vun 
on  'em.  As  it  is,  I  don't  think  I  can  do  with  anythin* 
under  a  female  markis.  I  might  take  up  with  a 
young  'ooman  o'  large  property  as  hadn't  a  title,  if 
she  made  wery  fierce  love  to  me.  Not  else.' 

'Of  course  not,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  the  gentleman  in 
blue,  'one  can't  be  troubled,  you  know ;  and  we  know, 
Mr.  Weller — we,  who  are  men  of  the  world — that  a 
good  uniform  must  work  its  way  with  the  women, 
sooner  or  later.  In  fact,  that 's  the  only  thing,  be- 
tween you  and  me,  that  makes  the  service  worth  enter- 
ing into.' 

'Just  so,'  said  Sam.     'That 's  it,  o'  course.' 

When  this  confidential  dialogue  had  gone  thus  far, 
glasses  were  placed  round,  and  every  gentleman  or- 
dered what  he  liked  best,  before  the  public-house  shut 
up.  The  gentleman  in  blue,  and  the  man  in  orange, 
who  were  the  chief  exquisites  of  the  party,  ordered 
'cold  s'rub  and  water,'  but  with  the  others,  gin-and- 
water,  sweet,  appeared  to  be  the  favourite  beverage. 
Sam  called  the  greengrocer  a  'desp'rate  willin,'  and 
ordered  a  large  bowl  of  punch:  two  circumstances 
which  seemed  to  raise  him  very  much  in  the  opinion  of 
the  selections. 

'Gentlemen,'  said  the  man  in  blue,  with  an  air  of 
the  most  consummate  dandyism,  'I  '11  give  you  the 
ladies;  come.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  159 

'Hear,  hear!'  said  Sam,  'the  young  mississes.' 
^  Here  there  was  a  loud  cry  of  'Order,'  and  Mr.  John 
Smauker,  as  the  gentleman  who  had  introduced  Mr. 
Weller  into  that  company,  begged  to  inform  him  that 
the  word  he  had  just  made  use  of,  was  unparlia- 
mentary. 

'Which  word  was  that  'ere,  sir?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Mississes,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  John  Smauker,  with  an 
alarming  frown.  'We  don't  recognise  such  distinc- 
tions here.' 

'Oh,  wery  good/  said  Sam;  'then  I  '11  amend  the 
observation,  and  call  'em  the  dear  creeturs,  if  Blazes 
vill  allow  me.' 

Some  doubt  appeared  to  exist  in  the  mind  of  the 
gentleman  in  the  green-foil  smalls,  whether  the  chair- 
man could  be  legally  appealed  to,  as  'Blazes,'  but  as 
the  company  seemed  more  disposed  to  stand  upon 
their  own  rights  than  his,  the  question  was  not  raised. 
The  man  with  the  cocked  hat  breathed  short,  and 
looked  long  at  Sam,  but  apparently  thought  it  as  well 
to  say  nothing,  in  case  he  should  get  the  worst  of  it. 

After  a  short  silence,  a  gentleman  in  an  embroid- 
ered coat  reaching  down  to  his  heels,  and  a  waistcoat 
of  the  same  which  kept  one  half  of  his  legs  warm, 
stirred  his  gin-and-water  with  great  energy,  and  put- 
ting himself  upon  his  feet,  all  at  once,  by  a  violent 
effort  said  he  was  desirous  of  offering  a  few  remarks 
to  the  company:  whereupon  the  person  in  the  cocked 
hat  had  no  doubt  that  the  company  would  be  very 
happy  to  hear  any  remarks  that  the  man  in  the  long 
coat  might  wish  to  offer. 

'I  feel  a  great  delicacy,  gentlemen,  m  coming 
for'ard,'  said  the  man  in  the  long  coat,  'having  the 
misforchune  to  be  a  coachman,  and  being  only  ad- 
mitted as  a  honorary  member  of  these  agreeable 
swarrys,  but  I  do  feel  myself  bound,  gentlemen— 


160  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

drove  into  a  corner,  if  I  may  use  the  expression — to 
make  known  an  afflicting  circumstance  which  has 
come  to  my  knowledge;  which  has  happened  I  may 
say  within  the  soap  of  my  every  day  contemplation. 
Gentlemen,  our  friend  Mr.  Whiffers  (everybody 
looked  at  the  individual  in  orange),  our  friend  Mr. 
Whiffers  has  resigned.' 

Universal  astonishment  fell  upon  the  hearers. 
Each  gentleman  looked  in  his  neighbour's  face,  and 
then  transferred  his  glance  to  the  upstanding  coach- 
man. 

'You  may  well  be  sapparised,  gentlemen,'  said  the 
coachman.  'I  will  not  wenchure  to  state  the  reasons 
of  this  irrepairabel  loss  to  the  service,  but  I  will  beg 
Mr.  Whiffers  to  state  them  himself,  for  the  improve- 
ment and  imitation  of  his  admiring  friends.' 

The  suggestion  being  loudly  approved  of,  Mr. 
Whiffers  explained.  He  said  he  certainly  could  have 
wished  to  have  continued  to  hold  the  appointment  he 
had  just  resigned.  The  uniform  was  extremely  rich 
and  expensive,  the  females  of  the  family  was  most 
agreeable,  and  the  duties  of  the  situation  was  not,  he 
was  bound  to  say,  too  heavy;  the  principal  service  that 
was  required  of  him,  being,  that  he  should  look  out  of 
the  hall  window  as  much  as  possible,  in  company  with 
another  gentlemen,  who  had  also  resigned.  He  could 
have  wished  to  have  spared  that  company  the  painful 
and  disgusting  detail  on  which  he  was  about  to  enter, 
but  as  the  explanation  had  been  demanded  of  him, 
he  had  no  alternative  but  to  state,  boldly  and  dis- 
tinctly, that  he  had  been  required  to  eat  cold  meat. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  disgust  which  this 
avowal  awakened  in  the  bosoms  of  the  hearers.  Loud 
cries  of  'Shame!'  mingled  with  groans  and  hisses,  pre- 
vailed for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Mr.  Whiffers  then  added  that  he  feared  a  portion 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  161 

of  this  outrage  might  be  traced  to  his  own  forbearing 
and  accommodating  disposition.  He  had  a  distinct 
recollection  of  having  once  consented  to  eat  salt  but- 
ter, and  he  had,  moreover,  on  an  occasion  of  sudden 
sickness  in  the  house,  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to 
carry  a  coal-scuttle  up  to  the  second  floor.  He  trusted 
he  had  not  lowered  himself  in  the  good  opinion  of  his 
friends  by  this  frank  confession  of  his  faults ;  and  he 
hoped  the  promptness  with  which  he  had  resented  the 
last  unmanly  outrage  on  his  feelings,  to  which  he  had 
referred,  would  reinstate  him  in  their  good  opinion,  if 
he  had. 

Mr.  Whiffers'  address  was  responded  to  with  a  shout 
of  admiration,  and  the  health  of  the  interesting  mar- 
tyr was  drunk  in  a  most  enthusiastic  manner ;  for  this, 
the  martyr  returned  thanks,  and  proposed  their  visitor, 
Mr.  Weller ;  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  not  the  pleas- 
ure of  an  intimate  acquaintance  with,  but  who  was 
the  friend  of  Mr.  John  Smauker,  which  was  a  suffi- 
cient letter  of  recommendation  to  any  society  of  gen- 
tlemen whatever,  or  wherever.  On  this  account,  he 
should  have  been  disposed  to  have  given  Mr.  Weller's 
health  with  all  the  honours,  if  his  friends  had  been 
drinking  wine;  but  as  they  were  taking  spirits  by  way 
of  a  change,  and  as  it  might  be  inconvenient  to  empty 
a  tumbler  at  every  toast,  he  should  propose  that  the 
honours  be  understood. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  everybody  took  a 
sip  in  honour  of  Sam;  and  Sam  having  ladled  out, 
and  drunk,  two  full  glasses  of  punch  in  honour  of 
himself,  returned  thanks  in  a  neat  speech. 

'Wery  much  obliged  to  you,  old  fellers,'  said  Sam, 
ladling  away  at  the  punch  in  the  most  unembarrassed 
manner  possible,  'for  this  here  compliment;  which, 
comin'  from  sich  a  quarter,  is  wery  overvelmin'.  I  Ve 
heerd  a  good  deal  on  you  as  a  body,  but  T  will  s<iy, 


162  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

that  I  never  thought  you  was  sich  uncommon  nice 
men  as  I  find  you  are.  I  only  hope  you  '11  take  care 
o'  yourselves,  and  not  compromise  nothin'  o'  your  dig- 
nity, which  is  a  wery  charmin'  thing  to  see,  when  one  's 
out  a  walkin',  and  has  always  made  me  wery  happy 
to  look  at,  ever  since  I  was  a  boy  about  half  as  high 
as  the  brass-headed  stick  o'  my  wery  respectable 
friend,  Blazes,  there.  As  to  the  wictim  of  oppression 
in  the  suit  o'  brimstone,  all  I  can  say  of  him,  is,  that 
I  hope  he  '11  get  jist  as  good  a  berth  as  he  deserves:  in 
vich  case  it 's  wery  little  cold  swarry  as  ever  he  '11  be 
troubled  with  agin.' 

Here  Sam  sat  down  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  his 
speech  having  been  vociferously  applauded,  the  com- 
pany broke  up. 

'Wy,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  're  a  goin',  old 
feller?'  said  Sam  Weller  to  his  friend  Mr.  John 
Smauker. 

'I  must  indeed,'  said  Mr.  Smauker;  'I  promised 
Bantam.' 

'Oh,  wery  well,'  said  Sam ;  'that 's  another  thing. 
P'raps  he  d  resign,  if  you  disappointed  him.  You 
ain't  a  goin',  Blazes?' 

'Yes,  I  am,'  said  the  man  with  the  cocked  hat. 

'Wot,  and  leave  three-quarters  of  a  bowl  of  punch 
behind  you!'  said  Sam;  'nonsense,  set  down  agin.' 

Mr.  Tuckle  was  not  proof  against  this  invitation. 
He  laid  aside  the  cocked  hat  and  stick  which  he  had 
just  taken  up,  and  said  he  would  have  one  glass,  for 
good  fellowship's  sake. 

As  the  gentleman  in  blue  went  home  the  same  way 
as  Mr.  Tuckle,  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  stop  too. 
When  the  punch  was  about  half  gone,  Sam  ordered  in 
some  oysters  from  the  greengrocer's  shop;  and  the 
effect  of  both  was  so  extremely  exhilarating,  that  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  163 

Tuckle,  dressed  out  with  the  cocked  hat  and  stick, 
danced  the  frog  hornpipe  among  the  shells  on  the 
table:  while  the  gentleman  in  blue  played  an  accom- 
paniment upon  an  ingenious  musical  instrument 
formed  of  a  hair-comb  and  a  curl-paper.  At  last, 
when  the  punch  was  all  gone,  and  the  night  nearly 
so,  they  sallied  forth  to  see  each  other  home.  Mr. 
Tuckle  no  sooner  got  into  the  open  air,  than  he  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  desire  to  lie  on  the  curbstone; 
Sam  thought  it  would  be  a  pity  to  contradict  him,  and 
so  let  him  have  his  own  way.  As  the  cocked  hat 
would  have  been  spoilt  if  left  there,  Sam  very  con- 
siderately flattened  it  down  on  the  head  of  the  gen- 
tleman in  blue,  and  putting  the  big  stick  in  his  hand, 
propped  him  up  against  his  own  street-door,  rang  the 
bell,  and  walked  quietly  home. 

At  a  much  earlier  hour  next  morning  than  his  usual 
time  of  rising,  Mr.  Pickwick  walked  downstairs  com- 
pletely dressed  and  rang  the  bell. 

'Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Mr.  Weller  ap- 
peared in  reply  to  the  summons,  'shut  the  door.' 

Mr.  Weller  did  so. 

'There  was  an  unfortunate  occurrence  here  last 
night,  Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'which  gave  Mr. 
Winkle  some  cause  to  apprehend  violence  from  Mr. 
Dowler.' 

'So  I  Ve  heerd  from  the  old  lady  downstairs,  sir/ 
replied  Sam. 

'And  I  'm  sorry  to  say,  Sam/  continued  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, with  a  most  perplexed  countenance,  that  ^  in 
dread  of  this  violence,  Mr.  Winkle  has  gone  away.' 

'Gone  avay!'  said  Sam. 

'Left  the  house  early  this  morning,  without  the 
slightest  previous  communication  with  me/  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick.  'And  is  gone,  I  know  not  where.' 


164  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'He  should  ha'  stopped  and  fought  it  out,  sir,'  re- 
plied Sam,  contemptuously.  'It  wouldn't  take  much 
to  settle  that  'ere  Dowler,  sir.' 

'Well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  may  have  my 
doubts  of  his  great  bravery  and  determination,  also. 
But  however  that  may  be,  Mr.  Winkle  is  gone.  He 
must  be  found,  Sam.  Found  and  brought  back  to 
me.' 

'And  s'pose  he  won't  come  back,  sir?'  said  Sam. 

'He  must  be  made,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Who  's  to  do  it,  sir?'  inquired  Sam  with  a  smile. 

'You,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wery  good,  sir.' 

With  these  words  Mr.  Weller  left  the  room,  and 
immediately  afterwards  was  heard  to  shut  the  street- 
door.  In  two  hours'  time  he  returned  with  as  much 
coolness  as  if  he  had  been  despatched  on  the  most 
ordinary  message  possible,  and  brought  the  informa- 
tion that  an  individual,  in  every  respect  answering 
Mr.  Winkle's  description,  had  gone  over  to  Bristol 
that  morning  by  the  branch  coach  from  the  Royal 
Hotel. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasping  his  hand, 
'you  're  a  capital  fellow;  an  invaluable  fellow.  You 
must  follow  him,  Sam.' 

'Cert'nly,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'The  instant  you  discover  him,  write  to  me  imme- 
diately, Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'If  he  attempts  to 
run  away  from  you,  knock  him  down,  or  lock  him  up. 
You  have  my  full  authority,  Sam.' 

'I  '11  be  wery  careful,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam. 

'You  '11  tell  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  I  am 
highly  excited,  highly  displeased,  and  naturally  indig- 
nant, at  the  very  extraordinary  course  he  has  thought 
proper  to  pursue.' 

'I  will,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  165 

'You  '11  tell  him,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  if  he  does 
not  come  back  to  this  very  house,  with  you,  he  will 
come  back  with  me,  for  I  will  come  and  fetch  him.' 

'I  '11  mention  that  'ere,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam. 

'You  think  you  can  find  him,  Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  earnestly  in  his  face. 

'Oh,  I  '11  find  him  if  he  's  any  vere,'  rejoined  Sam, 
with  great  confidence. 

'Very  well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Then  the  sooner 
you  go  the  better.' 

With  these  instructions,  Mr.  Pickwick  placed  a  sum 
of  money  in  the  hands  of  his  faithful  servitor,  and 
ordered  him  to  start  for  Bristol  immediately,  in  pur- 
suit of  the  fugitive. 

Sam  put  a  few  necessaries  in  a  carpet-bag,  and  was 
ready  for  starting.  He  stopped  when  he  had  got  to 
the  end  of  the  passage,  and  walking  quietly  back, 
thrust  his  head  in  at  the  parlour  door. 

'Sir,'  whispered  Sam. 

'Well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  fully  understands  my  instructions,  do  I,  sir?'  in- 
quired Sam. 

'I  hope  so,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It 's  reg'larly  understood  about  the  knockin'  down, 
is  it,  sir?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Perfectly,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Thoroughly. 
Do  what  you  think  necessary.  You  have  my  orders.' 

Sam  gave  a  nod  of  intelligence,  and  withdrawing 
his  head  from  the  door,  set  forth  on  his  pilgrimage 
with  a  light  heart. 


166  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

HOW  ME.  WINKLE,  WHEN  HE  STEPPED  OUT  OF  THE 
FRYING-PAN,  WALKED  GENTLY  AND  COMFORTABLY 
INTO  THE  FIRE 

THE  ill-starred  gentleman  who  had  been  the  unfor- 
tunate cause  of  the  unusual  noise  and  disturbance 
which  alarmed  the  inhabitants  of  the  Royal  Crescent 
in  manner  and  form  already  described,  after  passing 
a  night  of  great  confusion  and  anxiety,  left  the  roof 
beneath  which  his  friends  still  slumbered,  bound  he 
knew  not  whither.  The  excellent  and  considerate 
feelings  which  prompted  Mr.  Winkle  to  take  this  step 
can  never  be  too  highly  appreciated  or  too  warmly 
extolled.  'If,'  reasoned  Mr.  Winkle  with  himself,  'if 
this  Dowler  attempts  (as  I  have  no  doubt  he  will) 
to  carry  into  execution  his  threat  of  personal  violence 
against  myself,  it  will  be  incumbent  on  me  to  call  him 
out.  He  has  a  wife;  that  wife  is  attached  to,  and 
dependent  on  him.  Heavens!  if  I  should  kill  him  in 
the  blindness  of  my  wrath,  what  would  be  my  feel- 
ings ever  afterwards!'  This  painful  consideration 
operated  so  powerfully  on  the  feelings  of  the  humane 
young  man,  as  to  cause  his  knees  to  knock  together, 
and  his  countenance  to  exhibit  alarming  manifestations 
of  inward  emotion.  Impelled  by  such  reflections,  he 
grasped  his  carpet-bag,  and  creeping  stealthily  down- 
stairs, shut  the  detestable  street-door  with  as  little 
noise  as  possible,  and  walked  off.  Bending  his  steps 
towards  the  Royal  Hotel,  he  found  a  coach  on  the 
point  of  starting  for  Bristol,  and,  thinking  Bristol 
as  good  a  place  for  his  purpose  as  any  other  he  could 
go  to,  he  mounted  the  box,  and  reached  his  place  of 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  167 

destination  in  such  time  as  the  pair  of  horses,  who 
went  the  whole  stage  and  back  again  twice  a  day  or 
more,  could  be  reasonably  supposed  to  arrive  there. 

He  took  up  his  quarters  at  the  Bush,  and,  design- 
ing to  postpone  any  communication  by  letter  with 
Mr.  Pickwick  until  it  was  probable  that  Mr.  Dowler's 
wrath  might  have  in  some  degree  evaporated,  walked 
forth  to  view  the  city,  which  struck  him  as  being  more 
dirty  than  any  place  he  had  ever  seen.  Having  in- 
spected the  docks  and  shipping,  and  viewed  the  cathe- 
dral, he  inquired  his  way  to  Clifton,  and  being  di- 
rected thither,  took  the  route  which  was  pointed  out 
to  him.  But,  as  the  pavements  of  Bristol  are  not  the 
widest  or  cleanest  upon  earth,  so  its  streets  are  not 
altogether  the  straightest  or  least  intricate;  Mr. 
Winkle  being  greatly  puzzled  by  their  manifold 
windings  and  twistings,  looked  about  him  for  a  decent 
shop  in  which  he  could  apply  afresh,  for  counsel  and 
instruction. 

His  eye  fell  upon  a  newly-painted  tenement  which 
had  been  recently  converted  into  something  between 
a  shop  and  a  private  house,  and  which  a  red  lamp,  pro- 
jecting over  the  fan-light  of  the  street-door,  would 
have  sufficiently  announced  as  the  residence  of  a  med- 
ical practitioner,  even  if  the  word  'Surgery'  had  not 
been  inscribed  in  golden  characters  on  a  wainscot 
ground,  above  the  window  of  what  in  times  bygone, 
had  been  the  front-parlour.  Thinking  this  an  eligi- 
ble place  wherein  to  make  inquiries,  Mr.  Winkle 
stepped  into  the  little  shop  where  the  gilt-labelled 
drawers  and  bottles  were;  and  finding  nobody  there, 
knocked  with  a  half-crown  on  the  counter,  to  attract 
the  attention  of  anybody  who  might  happen  to  be  in 
the  back-parlour,  which  he  judged  to  be  the  inner- 
most and  peculiar  sanctum  of  the  establishment,  from 


168 

the  repetition  of  the  word  surgery  on  the  door- 
painted  in  white  letters  this  time,  by  way  of  taking 
off  the  monotony. 

At  the  first  knock,  a  sound,  as  of  persons  fencing 
with  fire-irons,  which  had  until  now  been  very  audi- 
ble, suddenly  ceased ;  at  the  second,  a  studious-looking 
young  gentleman  in  green  spectacles,  with  a  very 
large  book  in  his  hand,  glided  quietly  into  the  shop, 
and  stepping  behind  the  counter,  requested  to  know 
the  visitor's  pleasure. 

'I  'm  sorry  to  trouble  you,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
'but  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  direct  me  to— 

'Ha !  ha !  ha !'  roared  the  studious  young  gentleman, 
throwing  the  large  book  up  into  the  air,  and  catching 
it  with  great  dexterity  at  the  very  moment  when  it 
threatened  to  smash  to  atoms  all  the  bottles  on  the 
counter.  'Here  's  a  start !' 

There  was,  without  doubt;  for  Mr.  Winkle  was  so 
very  much  astonished  at  the  extraordinary  behaviour 
of  the  medical  gentleman,  that  he  involuntarily  re- 
treated towards  the  door,  and  looked  very  much  dis- 
turbed at  his  strange  reception. 

'What,  don't  you  know  me?'  said  the  medical  gen- 
tleman. 

Mr.  Winkle  murmured,  in  reply,  that  he  had  not 
that  pleasure. 

'Why,  then,'  said  the  medical  gentleman,  'there  are 
hopes  for  me  yet;  I  may  attend  half  the  old  women 
in  Bristol  if  I  Ve  decent  luck.  Get  out,  you  mouldy 
old  villain,  get  out!'  With  this  adjuration,  which 
was  addressed  to  the  large  book,  the  medical  gentle- 
man kicked  the  volume  with  remarkable  agility  to  the 
further  end  of  the  shop,  and,  pulling  off  his  green 
spectacles,  grinned  the  identical  grin  of  Robert  Saw- 
yer, Esquire,  formerly  of  Guy's  Hospital  in  the 
Borough,  with  a  private  residence  in  Lant  Street. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  169 

'You  don't  mean  to  say  you  weren't  down  upon 
me!'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  shaking  Mr.  Winkle's 
hand  with  friendly  warmth. 

'Upon  my  word  I  was  not,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle, 
returning  the  pressure. 

'I  wonder  you  didn't  see  the  name,'  said  Bob  Saw- 
yer, calling  his  friend's  attention  to  the  outer  door, 
on  which,  in  the  same  white  paint,  were  traced  the 
words  'Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf.' 

'It  never  caught  my  eye,'  returned  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Lord,  if  I  had  known  who  you  were,  I  should  have 
rushed  out,  and  caught  you  in  my  arms,'  said  Bob 
Sawyer;  'but  upon  my  life,  I  thought  you  were  the 
King's-taxes.' 

'No!'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'I  did,  indeed,'  responded  Bob  Sawyer,  'and  I  was 
just  going  to  say  that  I  wasn't  at  home,  but  if  you  'd 
leave  a  message  I  'd  be  sure  to  give  it  to  myself;  for 
he  don't  know  me;  no  more  does  the  Lighting  and 
Paving.  I  think  the  Church-rates  guesses  who  I  am, 
and  I  know  the  Water-works  does,  because  I  drew  a 
tooth  of  his  when  I  first  came  down  here.  But  come 
in,  come  in !'  Chattering  in  this  way,  Mr.  Bob  Saw- 
yer pushed  Mr.  Winkle  into  the  back-room,  where, 
amusing  himself  by  boring  little  circular  caverns  in 
the  chimney-piece  with  a  red-hot  poker,  sat  no  less  B 
person  than  Sir.  Benjamin  Allen. 

'Well!'  said  Mr.  Winkle.  'This  is  indeed  a  pleas- 
ure I  did  not  expect.  What  a  very  nice  place  you 
have  here!' 

'Pretty  well,  pretty  well,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  'I 
passed,  soon  after  that  precious  party,  and  my  friends 
came  down  with  the  needful  for  this  business;  so  I 
put  on  a  black  suit  of  clothes,  and  a  pair  of  spectacles, 
and  ^°nie  here  to  look  as  solemn  as  I  could.' 


170  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

4  And  a  very  snug  little  business  you  have,  no  doubt  ?' 
said  Mr.  Winkle,  knowingly. 

'Very/  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  'So  snug,  that  at  the 
end  of  a  few  years  you  might  put  all  the  profits  in  a 
wine  glass,  and  cover  'em  over  with  a  gooseberry  leaf.' 

'You  cannot  surely  mean  that?'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 
'The  stock  itself- 

'Dummies,  my  dear  boy,'  said  Bob  Sawyer;  'half 
the  drawers  have  nothing  in  'em,  and  the  other  half 
don't  open.' 

'Nonsense!'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Fact — honour!'  returned  Bob  Sawyer,  stepping 
out  into  the  shop,  and  demonstrating  the  veracity  of 
the  assertion  by  divers  hard  pulls  at  the  little  gilt 
knobs  on  the  counterfeit  drawers.  'Hardly  anything 
real  in  the  shop  but  the  leeches,  and  they  are  second- 
hand.' 

'I  shouldn't  have  thought  it!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Win- 
kle, much  surprised. 

'I  hope  not,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  'else  where  's  the 
use  of  appearances,  eh?  But  what  will  you  take? 
Do  as  we  do?  That's  right.  Ben,  my  fine  fellow, 
put  your  hand  into  the  cupboard,  and  bring  out  the 
patent  digester.' 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  smiled  his  readiness,  and  pro- 
duced from  the  closet  at  his  elbow  a  black  bottle  half 
full  of  brandy. 

'You  don't  take  water,  of  course?'  said  Bob 
Sawyer. 

'Thank  you,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  'It 's  rather 
early.  I  should  like  to  qualify  it,  if  you  have  no 
objection.' 

'None  in  the  least,  if  you  can  reconcile  it  to  your 
conscience,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer;  tossing  off,  as  he 
spoke,  a  glass  of  the  liquor  with  great  relish.  'Ben, 
the  pipkin!' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  171 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  drew  forth,  from  the  same 
hiding-place,  a  small  brass  pipkin,  which  Bob  Sawyer 
observed  he  prided  himself  upon,  particularly  be- 
cause it  looked  so  business-like.  The  water  in  the 
professional  pipkin  having  been  made  to  boil,  in 
course  of  time,  by  various  little  shovelsful  of  coal, 
which  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  took  out  of  a  practicable 
window-seat,  labelled  'Soda  Water,'  Mr.  Winkle 
adulerated  his  brandy;  and  the  conversation  was  be- 
coming general,  when  it  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance into  the  shop  of  a  boy,  in  a  sober  grey  livery 
and  a  gold-laced  hat,  with  a  small  covered  basket 
under  his  arm:  whom  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  immediately 
hailed  with,  'Tom,  you  vagabond,  come  here.' 

The  boy  presented  himself  accordingly. 

'You  Ve  been  stopping  to  over  all  the  posts  in 
Bristol,  you  idle  young  scamp !'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'No,  sir,  I  haven't,'  replied  the  boy. 

'You  had  better  not!'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  a 
threatening  aspect.  'Who  do  you  suppose  will  ever 
employ  a  professional  man,  when  they  see  his  boy 
playing  at  marbles  in  the  gutter,  or  flying  the  garter 
in  the  horse-road?  Have  you  no  feeling  for  your 
profession,  you  groveller?  Did  you  leave  all  the 
medicine  ?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'The  powders  for  the  child,  at  the  large  house  with 
the  new  family,  and  the  pills  to  be  taken  four  times  a 
day  at  the  ill-tempered  old  gentleman's  with  the  gouty 
leg?' 

'Yes,  sir/ 

'Then  shut  the  door,  and  mind  the  shop.' 

'Come/  said  Mr.  Winkle,  as  the  boy  retired,  'things 
are  not  quite  so  bad  as  you  would  have  me  believe, 
'either.  There  is  some  medicine  to  be  sent  out.' 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  peeped  into  the  shop  to  see  that  no 


172  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

stranger  was  within  hearing,  and  leaning  forward  to 
Mr.  Winkle,  said,  in  a  low  tone — 

'He  leaves  it  all  at  the  wrong  houses.' 

Mr.  Winkle  looked  perplexed,  and  Bob  Sawyer  and 
his  friend  laughed. 

'Don't  you  see  ?'  said  Bob.  'He  goes  up  to  a  house, 
rings  Ihe  area  bell,  pokes  a  packet  of  medicine  without 
a  direction  into  the  servant's  hand,  and  walks  off. 
Servant  takes  it  into  the  dining-parlour ;  master  opens 
it  and  reads  the  label:  "Draught  to  be  taken  at  bed- 
time— pills  as  before — lotion  as  usual — the  powder. 
From  Sawyer's,  late  Nockemorf 's.  Physicians'  pre- 
scriptions carefully  prepared,"  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
Shows  it  to  his  wife — she  reads  the  label ;  it  goes  down 
to  the  servants — they  read  the  label.  Next  day,  boy 
calls:  "Very  sorry — his  mistake — immense  business 
— great  many  parcels  to  deliver — Mr.  Sawyer's  com- 
pliments— late  Nockemorf ."  The  name  gets  known, 
and  that 's  the  thing,  my  boy,  in  the  medical  way. 
Bless  your  heart,  old  fellow,  it 's  better  than  all  the 
advertising  in  the  world.  We  have  got  one  four- 
ounce  bottle  that 's  been  to  half  the  houses  in  Bristol, 
and  hasn't  done  yet.' 

'Dear  me,  I  see/  observed  Mr.  Winkle;  'what  an 
excellent  plan!' 

'Oh,  Ben  and  I  have  hit  upon  a  dozen  such,'  replied 
Bob  Sawyer,  with  great  glee.  'The  lamplighter  has 
eighteenpence  a  week  to  pull  the  night  bell  for  ten 
minutes  every  time  he  comes  round;  and  my  boy  al- 
ways rushes  into  church,  just  before  the  psalms,  when 
the  people  have  got  nothing  to  do  but  look  about  'em, 
and  calls  me  out,  with  horror  and  dismay  depicted  on 
his  countenance.  "Bless  my  soul,"  eveiybody  says, 
"somebody  taken  suddenly  ill!  Sawyer,  late  Nocke- 
morf, sent  for.  What  a  business  that  young  man 
has!'" 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  173 

At  the  termination  of  this  disclosure  of  some  of 
the  mysteries  of  medicine,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  his 
friend,  Ben  Allen,  threw  themselves  back  in  their 
respective  chairs,  and  laughed  boisterously.  When 
they  had  enjoyed  the  joke  to  their  hearts'  content,  the 
discourse  changed  to  topics  in  which  Mr.  Winkle  was 
more  immediately  interested. 

We  think  we  have  hinted  elsewhere,  that  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen  had  a  way  of  becoming  sentimental 
after  brandy.  The  case  is  not  a  peculiar  one,  as  we 
ourselves  can  testify:  having,  on  a  few  occasions,  had 
to  deal  with  patients  who  have  been  afflicted  in  a 
similar  manner.  At  this  precise  period  of  his  exist- 
ence, Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  had  perhaps  a  greater  pre- 
disposition to  maudlinism  than  he  had  ever  known 
before;  the  cause  of  which  malady  was  briefly  this. 
He  had  been  staying  nearly  three  weeks  with  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer;  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  not  remarkable 
for  temperance,  nor  was  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  for  the 
ownership  of  a  veiy  strong  head;  the  consequence 
was,  that,  during  the  whole  space  of  time  just  men- 
tioned, Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  had  been  wavering  be- 
tween intoxication  partial,  and  intoxication  complete. 

'My  dear  friend,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  taking 
advantage  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  temporary  absence 
behind  the  counter,  whither  he  had  retired  to  dis- 
pense some  of  the  second-hand  leeches,  previously 
referred  to:  'my  dear  friend,  I  am  very  miserable.' 

Mr.  Winkle  professed  his  heartfelt  regret  to  hear 
it,  and  begged  to  know  whether  he  could  do  anything 
to  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  the  suff ering  student. 

'Nothing,  my  dear  boy,  nothing,'  said  Ben.  'You 
recollect  Arabella,  Winkle?  My  sister  Arabella— a 
little  girl,  Winkle,  with  black  eyes— when  we  were 
down  at  Wardle's?  I  don't  know  whether  you  hap- 
pened to  notice  her,  a  nice  little  girl,  Winkle.  Per- 


174  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

haps  my  features  may  recall  her  countenance  to  your 
recollection?' 

Mr.  Winkle  required  nothing  to  recall  the  charm- 
ing Arabella  to  his  mind ;  and  it  was  rather  fortunate 
he  did  not,  for  the  features  of  her  brother  Benjamin 
would  unquestionably  have  proved  but  an  indifferent 
refresher  to  his  memory.  He  answered,  with  as  much 
calmness  as  he  could  assume,  that  he  perfectly 
remembered  the  young  lady  referred  to,  and  sin- 
cerely trusted  she  was  in  good  health. 

'Our  friend  Bob  is  a  delightful  fellow,  Winkle,' 
was  the  only  reply  of  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 

'Very,'  said  Mr.  Winkle;  riot  much  relishing  this 
close  connexion  of  the  two  names. 

'I  designed  'em  for  each  other ;  they  were  made  for 
each  other,  sent  into  the  world  for  each  other,  born  for 
each  other,  Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  setting  down 
his  glass  with  emphasis.  'There  's  a  special  destiny 
in  the  matter,  my  dear  sir ;  there  's  only  five  years' 
difference  between  'em,  and  both  their  birthdays  are 
in  August.' 

Mr.  Winkle  was  too  anxious  to  hear  what  was  to 
follow,  to  express  much  wonderment  at  this  extraor- 
dinary coincidence,  marvellous  as  it  was;  so  Mr.  Ben 
Allen,  after  a  tear  or  two,  went  on  to  say,  that,  not- 
withstanding all  his  esteem  and  respect  and  venera- 
tion for  his  friend,  Arabella  had  unaccountably  and 
unduti fully  evinced  the  most  determined  antipathy  to 
his  person. 

'And  I  think,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  in  conclusion,  rl 
think  there  's  a  prior  attachment.' 

'Have  you  any  idea  who  the  object  of  it  might  be?' 
asked  Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  trepidation. 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  seized  the  poker,  flourished  it  in  a 
warlike  manner  above  his  head,  inflicted  a  savage  blow 
on  an  imaginary  skull,  and  wound  up  by  saying,  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  175 

a  very  expressive  manner,  that  he  only  wished  he 
could  guess;  that  was  all. 

'I  'd  show  him  what  I  thought  of  him,'  said  Mr. 
Ben  Allen.  And  round  went  the  poker  again,  more 
fiercely  than  before. 

All  this  was,  of  course,  very  soothing  to  the  feel- 
ings of  Mr.  Winkle,  who  remained  silent  for  a  few 
minutes ;  but  at  length  mustered  up  resolution  to  in- 
quire whether  Miss  Allen  was  in  Kent. 

'No,  no,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  laying  aside  the 
poker,  and  looking  very  cunning;  'I  don't  think  War- 
die's  exactly  the  place  for  a  headstrong  girl;  so,  as  I 
am  her  natural  protector  and  guardian,  our  parents 
being  dead,  I  have  brought  her  down  into  this  part 
of  the  country  to  spend  a  few  months  at  an  old 
aunt's,  in  a  nice  dull  close  place.  I  think  that  will 
cure  her,  my  boy.  If  it  doesn't,  I  '11  take  her  abroad 
for  a  little  while,  and  see  what  that  '11  do.' 

'Oh,  the  aunt's  is  in  Bristol,  is  it?'  faltered  Mr. 
Winkle. 

'No,  no,  not  in  Bristol,'  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
jerking  his  thumb  over  his  right  shoulder:  'over  that 
way ;  down  there.  But,  hush,  here  's  Bob.  Not  a 
word,  my  dear  friend,  not  a  word.' 

Short  as  this  conversation  was,  it  roused  in  Mr. 
Winkle  the  highest  degree  of  excitement  and  anxiety. 
The  suspected  prior  attachment  rankled  in  >his  heart. 
Could  he  be  the  object  of  it?  Could  it  be  for  him 
that  the  fair  Arabella  had  looked  scornfully  on 
the  sprightly  Bob  Sawyer,  or  had  he  a  successful 
rival?  He  determined  to  see  her,  cost  what  it  might; 
but  here  an  insurmountable  objection  presented  itself, 
for  whether  the  explanatory  'over  that  way,'  and 
'down  there,'  of  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  meant  three  miles 
off,  or  thirty,  or  three  hundred,  he  could  in  no  wise 
guess. 


176  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

But  he  had  no  opportunity  of  pondering  over  his 
love  just  then,  for  Bob  Sawyer's  return  was  the 
immediate  precursor  of  the  arrival  of  a  meat  pie  from 
the  baker's,  of  which  that  gentleman  insisted  on  his 
staying  to  partake.  The  cloth  was  laid  by  an  occa- 
sional charwoman,  who  officiated  in  the  capacity  of 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  housekeeper;  and  a  third  knife  and 
fork  having  been  borrowed  from  the  mother  of  the 
boy  in  the  grey  livery  (for  Mr.  Sawyer's  domestic 
arrangements  were  as  yet  conducted  on  a  limited 
scale) ,  they  sat  down  to  dinner;  the  beer  being  served 
up,  as  Mr.  Sawyer  remarked,  'in  its  native  pewter.' 

After  dinner,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ordered  in  the  largest 
mortar  in  the  shop,  and  proceeded  to  brew  a  reeking 
jorum  of  rum-punch  therein:  stirring  up  and  amal- 
gamating the  materials  with  a  pestle  in  a  very  cred- 
itable and  apothecary-like  manner.  Mr.  Sawyer, 
being  a  bachelor,  had  only  one  tumbler  in  the  house, 
which  was  assigned  to  Mr.  Winkle  as  a  compliment 
to  the  visitor:  Mr.  Ben  Allen  being  accommodated 
with  a  funnel  with  a  cork  in  the  narrow  end :  and  Bob 
Sawyer  contented  himself  with  one  of  those  wide- 
lipped  crystal  vessels  inscribed  with  a  variety  of 
cabalistic  characters,  in  which  chemists  are  wont  to 
measure  out  their  liquid  drugs  in  compounding  pre- 
scriptions. These  preliminaries  adjusted,  the  punch 
was  tasted,  and  pronounced  excellent;  and  it  having 
been  arranged  that  Bob  Sawyer  and  Ben  Allen 
should  be  considered  at  liberty  to  fill  twice  to  Mr. 
Winkle's  once,  they  started  fair,  with  great  satisfac- 
tion and  good-fellowship. 

There  was  no  singing,  because  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
said  it  wouldn't  look  professional;  but  to  make 
amends  for  this  deprivation  there  was  so  much  talking 
and  laughing  that  it  might  have  been  heard,  and  very 
likely  was,  at  the  end  of  the  street.  Which  conversa- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  177 

tion  materially  lightened  the  hours  and  improved  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  boy,  who,  instead  of 
devoting  the  evening  to  his  ordinary  occupation  of 
writing  his  name  on  the  counter,  and  rubbing  it  out 
again,  peeped  through  the  glass  door,  and  thus  lis- 
tened and  looked  on  at  the  same  time. 

The  mirth  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  rapidly  ripen- 
ing into  the  furious;  Mr.  Ben  Allen  was  fast  relaps- 
ing into  the  sentimental,  and  the  punch  had  well-nigh 
disappeared  altogether,  when  the  boy  hastily  running 
in,  announced  that  a  young  woman  had  just  come 
over,  to  say  that  Sawyer  late  Xockemorf  was  wanted 
directly,  a  couple  of  streets  off.  This  broke  up  the 
party.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  understanding  the  mes- 
sage, after  some  twenty  repetitions,  tied  a  wet  cloth 
round  his  head  to  sober  himself,  and,  having  partially 
succeeded,  put  on  his  green  spectacles  and  issued 
forth.  Resisting  all  entreaties  to  stay  till  he  came 
back,  and  finding  it  quite  impossible  to  engage  Mr. 
Ben  Allen  in  any  intelligible  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject nearest  his  heart,  or  indeed  on  any  other,  Mr. 
Winkle  took  his  departure,  and  returned  to  the  Bush. 

The  anxiety  of  his  mind,  and  the  numerous  medita- 
tions which  Arabella  had  awakened,  prevented  his 
share  of  the  mortar  of  punch  producing  that  effect 
upon  him  which  it  would  have  had,  under  other  cir- 
cumstances. So,  after  taking  a  glass  of  soda-water 
and  brandy  at  the  bar,  he  turned  into  the  coffee-room, 
dispirited  rather  than  elevated  by  the  occurrences  of 
the  evening. 

Sitting  in  the  front  of  the  fire,  with  his  back  to- 
wards him,  was  a  tallish  gentleman  in  a  great-coat: 
the  only  other  occupant  of  the  room.  It  was  rather 
a  cool  evening  for  the  season  of  the  year,  and  the 
gentleman  drew  his  chair  aside  to  afford  the  new 
comer  a  siffht  of  the  fire.  What  were  Mr.  Winkle's 


178  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

feelings  when,  in  doing  so,  he  disclosed  to  view  the 
face  and  figure  of  the  vindictive  and  sanguinary 
Dowler ! 

Mr.  Winkle's  first  impulse  was  to  give  a  violent 
pull  at  the  nearest  bell-handle,  but  that  unfortunately 
happened  to  be  immediately  behind  Mr.  Dowler's 
head.  He  had  made  one  step  towards  it,  before  he 
checked  himself.  As  he  did  so,  Mr.  Dowler  very 
hastily  drew  back. 

'Mr.  Winkle,  sir.  Be  calm.  Don't  strike  me.  I 
won't  bear  it.  A  blow!  Never!'  said  Mr.  Dowler, 
looking  meeker  than  Mr.  Winkle  had  expected  in  a 
gentleman  of  his  ferocity. 

'A  blow,  sir?'  stammered  Mr.  Winkle. 

'A  blow,  sir,'  replied  Dowler.  'Compose  your 
feelings.  Sit  down.  Hear  me.' 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot,  'before  I  consent  to  sit  down  beside,  or  opposite 
you,  without  the  presence  of  a  waiter,  I  must  be 
secured  by  some  further  understanding.  You  used 
a  threat  against  me  last  night,  sir,  a  dreadful  threat, 
sir.'  Here  Mr.  Winkle  turned  very  pale  indeed,  and 
stopped  short. 

'I  did,'  said  Dowler,  with  a  countenance  almost  as 
white  as  Mr.  Winkle's.  'Circumstances  were  sus- 
picious. They  have  been  explained.  I  respect  your 
bravery.  Your  feeling  is  upright.  Conscious  inno- 
cence. There  's  my  hand.  Grasp  it.' 

'Really,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hesitating  whether 
to  give  his  hand  or  not,  and  almost  fearing  that  it  was 
demanded  in  order  that  he  might  be  taken  at  an 
advantage,  'really,  sir,  I— 

'I  know  what  you  mean,'  interposed  Dowler.  'You 
feel  aggrieved.  Very  natural.  So  should  I.  I  was 
wrong.  I  beg  your  pardon.  Be  friendly.  Forgive 
me.'  With  this,  Dowler  fairly  forced  his  hand  upon 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  179 

Mr.  Winkle,  and  shaking  it  with  the  utmost  vehe- 
mence, declared  he  was  a  fellow  of  extreme  spirit, 
and  he  had  a  higher  opinion  of  him  than  ever. 

'Now,'  said  Dowler,  'sit  down.    Relate  it  all.    How 
did  you  find  me?     When  did  you  follow?     Be  frank 
Tell  me.' 

.  'It 's  quite  accidental,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  greatly 
perplexed  by  the  curious  and  unexpected  nature  of 
the  interview,  'quite.' 

'Glad  of  it,'  said  Dowler.  'I  woke  this  morning. 
I  had  forgotten  my  threat.  I  laughed  at  the  acci- 
dent. I  felt  friendly.  I  said  so.' 

'To  whom?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle. 

'To  Mrs.  Dowler.  "You  made  a  vow,"  said  she. 
"I  did,"  said  I.  "It  was  a  rash  one,"  said  she.  "It 
was,"  said  I.  "I  '11  apologise.  Where  is  he?"  ' 

'Who?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle. 

'You,'  replied  Dowler.  'I  went  downstairs.  You 
were  not  to  be  found.  Pickwick  looked  gloomy. 
Shook  his  head.  Hoped  no  violence  would  be  com- 
mitted. I  saw  it  all.  You  felt  yourself  insulted. 
You  had  gone,  for  a  friend  perhaps.  Possibly  for 
pistols.  "High  spirit,"  said  I.  "I  admire  him." 

Mr.  Winkle  coughed,  and  beginning  to  see  how  the 
land  lay,  assumed  a  look  of  importance. 

'I  left  a  note  for  you,'  resumed  Dowler.  'I  said  I 
was  sorry.  So  I  was.  Pressing  business  called  me 
here.  You  were  not  satisfied.  You  followed.  You 
required  a  verbal  explanation.  You  were  right. 
It 's  all  over  now.  My  business  is  finished.  I  go 
back  to-morrow.  Join  me.' 

As  Dowler  progressed  in  his  explanation,  Mr. 
Winkle's  countenance  grew  more  and  more  dignified. 
The  mysterious  nature  of  the  commencement  of  their 
conversation  was  explained ;  Mr.  Dowler  had  as  great 
an  objection  to  duelling  as  himself;  in  short,  this  blus- 


180  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

taring  and  awful  personage  was  one  of  the  most 
egregious  cowards  in  existence,  and  interpreting  Mr. 
Winkle's  absence  through  the  medium  of  his  own 
fears,  had  taken  the  same  step  as  himself,  and  pru- 
dently retired  until  all  excitement  of  feeling  should 
have  subsided. 

As  the  real  state  of  the  case  dawned  upon  Mr. 
Winkle's  mind,  he  looked  very  terrible,  and  said  he 
was  perfectly  satisfied;  but  at  the  same  time,  said  so, 
with  an  air  that  left  Mr.  Dowler  no  alternative  but 
to  infer  that  if  he  had  not  been,  something  most  hor- 
rible and  destructive  must  inevitably  have  occurred. 
Mr.  Dowler  appeared  to  be  impressed  with  a  becom- 
ing sense  of  Mr.  Winkle's  magnanimity  and  con- 
descension; and  the  twro  belligerents  parted  for  the 
night,  with  many  protestations  of  eternal  friendship. 

About  half-past  twelve  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Winkle 
had  been  revelling  some  twenty  minutes  in  the  full 
luxury  of  his  first  sleep,  he  was  suddenly  awakened 
by  a  loud  knocking  at  his  chamber-door,  which,  being 
repeated  with  increased  vehemence,  caused  him  to 
start  up  in  bed,  and  inquire  who  was  there,  and  what 
the  matter  was. 

'Please,  sir,  here  's  a  young  man  which  says  he  must 
see  you  directly/  responded  the  voice  of  the  chamber- 
maid. 

'A  young  man !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle. 

'No  mistake  about  that  'ere,  sir,'  replied  another 
voice  through  the  keyhole;  'and  if  that  wery  same 
interestin'  young  creetur  ain't  let  in  vithout  delay, 
it 's  wery  possible  as  his  legs  vill  enter  afore  his 
countenance.'  The  young  man  gave  a  gentle  kick  at 
one  of  the  lower  panels  of  the  door,  after  he  had 
given  utterance  to  this  hint,  as  if  to  add  force  and 
point  to  the  remark. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  181 

'Is  that  you,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  springing 
out  of  bed. 

'Quite  unpossible  to  identify  any  gen'l'm'n  vith  any 
degree  o'  mental  satisfaction,  vithout  lookin'  at  him, 
sir,'  replied  the  voice,  dogmatically. 

Mr.  Winkle,  not  much  doubting  who  the  young 
man  was,  unlocked  the  door;  which  he  had  no  sooner 
done,  than  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  entered  with  great 
precipitation,  and  carefully  re-locking  it  on  the  inside, 
deliberately  put  the  key  in  his  waistcoat  pocket:  and, 
after  surveying  Mr.  Winkle  from  head  to  foot,  said— 

'You  're  a  wery  humorous  young  gen'l'm'n,  you 
air,  sir!' 

'What  do  you  mean  by  this  conduct,  Sam?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Winkle,  indignantly.  'Get  out,  sir,  this 
instant.  What  do  you  mean,  sir?' 

'What  do  /  mean,'  retorted  Sam;  'come,  sir,  this  is 
rayther  too  rich,  as  the  young  lady  said,  wen  she  re- 
monstrated with  the  pastry-cook,  arter  he  'd  sold  her 
a  pork-pie  as  had  got  nothin'  but  fat  inside.  What 
do  /  mean !  Well,  that  ain't  a  bad  'un,  that  ain't.' 

'Unlock  that  door,  and  leave  this  room  imme- 
diately, sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'I  shall  leave  this  here  room,  sir,  just  precisely  at 
the  wery  same  moment  as  you  leaves  it,'  responded 
Sam,  speaking  in  a  forcible  manner,  and  seating  him- 
self with  perfect  gravity.  'If  I  find  it  necessary 
to  carry  you  away,  pick-a-back,  o'  course  I  shall  leave 
it  the  least  bit  o'  time  possible  afore  you;  but  allow 
me  to  express  a  hope  as  you  won't  reduce  me  to  ex- 
tremities; in  saying  which,  I  merely  quote  wot  the 
nobleman  said  to  the  fractious  pennywinkle,  yen  he 
vouldn't  come  out  of  his  shell  by  means  of  a  pin,  and 
he  conseqvently  began  to  be  afeerd  that  he  should 
be  obliged  to  crack  him  in  the  parlour-door.'  At  the 


182  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

end  of  this  address,  which  was  unusually  lengthy  for 
him,  Mr.  Weller  planted  his  hands  on  his  knees,  and 
looked  full  in  Mr.  Winkle's  face,  with  an  expression 
of  countenance  which  showed  that  he  had  not  the 
remotest  intention  of  being  trifled  with. 

'You  're  a  amiably-disposed  young  man,  sir,  I 
don't  think,'  resumed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  tone  of  moral 
reproof,  'to  go  inwolving  our  precious  governor  in  all 
sorts  o'  f  anteegs,  wen  he  's  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
through  everythink  for  principle.  You  're  far  worse 
nor  Dodson,  sir;  and  as  for  Fogg,  I  consider  him  a 
born  angel  to  you!'  Mr.  Weller  having  accom- 
panied this  last  sentiment  with  an  emphatic  slap  on 
each  knee,  folded  his  arms  with  a  look  of  great  dis- 
gust, and  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  as  if  await- 
ing the  criminal's  defence. 

'My  good  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  extending  his 
hand;  his  teeth  chattering  all  the  time  he  spoke,  for 
he  had  been  standing,  during  the  whole  of  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  lecture,  in  his  night-gear;  'my  good  fellow,  I 
respect  your  attachment  to  my  excellent  friend,  and  I 
am  very  sorry  indeed,  to  have  added  to  his  causes  for 
disquiet.  There,  Sam,  there!' 

'Well,'  said  Sam,  rather  sulkily,  but  giving  the 
proffered  hand  a  respectful  shake  at  the  same  time: 
'well,  so  you  ought  to  be,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  find 
you  air;  for,  if  I  can  help  it,  I  won't  have  him  put 
upon  by  nobody,  and  that 's  all  about  it.' 

'Certainly  not,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Winkle.  'There! 
Now  go  to  bed,  Sam,  and  we  '11  talk  further  about 
this,  in  the  morning.' 

'I  'm  wery  sorry,'  said  Sam,  'but  I  can't  go  to  bed.' 

'Not  go  to  bed !'  repeated  Mr.  Winkle. 

'No,'  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head.     'Can't  be  done.' 

'You  don't  mean  to  say  you  're  going  back  to- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  183 

night,  Sam?'  urged  Mr.  Winkle,  greatly  surprised. 

'Not  unless  you  particklerly  wish  it,'  replied  Sam; 
'but  I  musn't  leave  this  here  room.  The  governor's 
orders  wos  peremptory.' 

'Nonsense,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  'I  must  stop 
here  two  or  three  days;  and  more  than  that,  Sam,  you 
must  stop  here  too,  to  assist  me  in  gaining  an  inter- 
view with  a  young  lady— Miss  Allen,  Sam;  you  re- 
member her— whom  I  must  and  will  see  before  I  leave 
Bristol.' 

But  in  reply  to  each  of  these  positions,  Sam  shook 
his  head  with  great  firmness,  and  energetically  re- 
plied, 'It  can't  be  done.' 

After  a  great  deal  of  argument  and  representa- 
tion on  the  part  of  Mr.  Winkle,  however,  and  a  full 
disclosure  of  what  had  passed  in  the  interview  with 
Dowler,  Sam  began  to  waver;  and  at  length  a  com- 
promise was  effected,  of  which  the  following  were  the 
main  and  principal  conditions  :— 

That  Sam  should  retire,  and  leave  Mr.  Winkle  in 
the  undisturbed  possession  of  his  apartment,  on  the 
condition  that  he  had  permission  to  lock  the  door  on 
the  outside,  and  carry  off  the  key;  provided  always, 
that  in  the  event  of  an  alarm  of  fire,  or  other  danger- 
ous contingency,  the  door  should  be  instantly  un- 
locked. That  a  letter  should  be  written  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick early  next  morning,  and  forwarded  per  Dowler, 
requesting  frs  consent  to  Sam  and  Mr.  Winkle's  re- 
maining at  Bristol,  for  the  purpose,  and  with  the 
object,  already  assigned,  and  begging  an  answer  by 
the  next  coach ;  if  favourable,  the  aforesaid  parties  to 
remain  accordingly,  and  if  not,  to  return  to  Bath  im- 
mediately on  the  receipt  thereof.  And,  lastly,  that 
Mr.  Winkle  should  be  understood  as  distinctly 
pledging  himself  not  to  resort  to  the  window,  fire- 


184  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

place,  or  other  surreptitious  mode  of  escape,  in  the 
meanwhile.  These  stipulations  having  been  con- 
cluded, Sam  locked  the  door  and  departed. 

He  had  nearly  got  downstairs,  when  he  stopped, 
and  drew  the  key  from  his  pocket. 

'I  quite  forgot  about  the  knockin'  down,'  said  Sam, 
half  turning  back.  'The  governor  distinctly  said  it 
was  to  be  done.  Amazin'  stupid  o'  me,  that  'ere! 
Never  mind,'  said  Sam,  brightening  up,  'it 's  easily 
done  to-morrow,  anyvays.' 

Apparently  much  consoled  by  this  reflection,  Mr. 
Weller  once  more  deposited  the  key  in  his  pocket,  and 
descending  the  remainder  of  the  stairs  without  any 
fresh  visitations  of  conscience,  was  soon,  in  common 
with  the  other  inmates  of  the  house,  buried  in  pro- 
found repose. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

ME.  SAMUEL  WELLER,  BEING  ENTRUSTED  WITH  A  MIS- 
SION OF  LOVE,  PROCEEDS  TO  EXECUTE  IT;  WITH 
WHAT  SUCCESS  WILL  HEREAFTER  APPEAR 

DURING  the  whole  of  next  day,  Sam  kept  Mr.  Winkle 
steadily  in  sight,  fully  determined  not  to  take  his  eyes 
off  him  for  one  instant,  until  he  should  receive  ex- 
press instructions  from  the  fountain-head.  How- 
ever disagreeable  Sam's  very  close  watch  and  great 
vigilance  were  to  Mr.  Winkle,  he  thought  it  better  to 
bear  with  them,  than,  by  any  act  of  violent  opposition, 
to  hazard  being  carried  away  by  force,  which  Mr. 
Weller  more  than  once  strongly  hinted  was  the  line 
of  conduct  that  a  strict  sense  of  duty  prompted  him 
to  pursue.  There  is  little  reason  to  doubt  that  Sam 
would  very  speedily  have  quieted  his  scruples,  by 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  185 

bearing  Mr.  Winkle  back  to  Bath,  bound  hand  and 
foot,  had  not  Mr.  Pickwick's  prompt  attention  to  the 
note,  which  Dowler  had  undertaken  to  deliver,  fore- 
stalled any  such  proceeding.  In  short,  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Pickwick  himself  walked 
into  the  coffee-room  qf  the  Bush  tavern,  and  told 
Sam,  with  a  smile,  to  his  very  great  relief,  that  he  had 
done  quite  right,  and  it  was  unnecessary  for  him  to 
mount  guard  any  longer. 

'I  thought  it  better  to  come  myself,'  said  Mr.  Pick 
wick,  addressing  Mr.  Winkle,  as  Sam  disencumbered 
him  of  his  great-coat  and  travelling  shawl,  'to  ascer- 
tain, before  I  gave  my  consent  to  Sam's  employment 
in  this  matter,  that  you  are  quite  in  earnest  and 
serious,  with  respect  to  this  young  lady.' 

'Serious,  from  my  heart — from  my  soul!'  returned 
Mr.  Winkle,  writh  great  energy. 

'Remember,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  beaming 
eyes,  we  met  her  at  our  excellent  and  hospitable 
friend's,  Winkle.  It  would  be  an  ill  return  to 
tamper,  lightly,  and  without  due  consideration,  with 
this  young  lady's  affections.  I  '11  not  allow  that,  sir. 
I  '11  not  allow  it.' 

'I  have  no  such  intention,  indeed/  exclaimed  Mr. 
Winkle  warmly.  'I  have  considered  the  matter  well, 
for  a  long  time,  and  I  feel  that  my  happiness  is  bound 
up  in  her.' 

'That 's  wot  we  call  tying  it  up  in  a  small  parcel, 
sir,'  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  with  an  agreeable  smile. 

Mr.  Winkle  looked  somewhat  stern  at  this  inter- 
ruption, and  Mr.  Pickwick  angrily  requested  his  at- 
tendant not  to  jest  with  one  of  the  best  feelings  of 
our  nature;  to  which  Sam  replied,  'That  he  wouldn  t, 
if  he  was  aware  on  it;  but  there  were  so  many  on  'em, 
that  he  hardly  know'd  what  was  the  best  ones  when  he 
heerd  'em  mentioned.' 


186  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Winkle  then  recounted  what  had  passed  be- 
tween himself  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  relative  to  Ara- 
bella; stated  that  his  object  was  to  gain  an  interview 
with  the  young  lady,  and  make  a  formal  disclosure  of 
his  passion;  and  declared  his  conviction,  founded  on 
certain  dark  hints  and  mutterings  of  the  aforesaid 
Ben,  that,  wherever  she  was  at  present  immured,  it 
was  somewhere  near  the  Downs.  And  this  was  his 
whole  stock  of  knowledge  or  suspicion  on  the  subject. 

With  this  veiy  slight  clue  to  guide  him,  it  was 
determined  that  Mr.  Weller  should  start  next  morn- 
ing on  an  expedition  of  discovery;  it  was  also  ar- 
ranged that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  were 
less  confident  of  their  powers,  should  parade  the  town 
meanwhile,  and  accidentally  drop  in  upon  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  in  the  course  of  the  day,  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
or  hearing  something  of  the  young  lady's  whereabout. 

Accordingly,  next  morning,  Sam  Weller  issued 
forth  upon  his  quest,  in  no  way  daunted  by  the  very 
discouraging  prospect  before  him;  and  away  he 
walked,  up  one  street  and  down  another — we  were 
going  to  say,  up  one  hill  and  down  another,  only  it 's 
all  uphill  at  Clifton — without  meeting  with  anything 
or  anybody  that  tended  to  throw  the  faintest  light  on 
the  matter  in  hand.  Many  were  the  colloquies  into 
which  Sam  entered  with  grooms  who  were  airing 
horses  on  roads,  and  nursemaids  who  were  airing 
childern  in  lanes;  but  nothing  could  Sam  elicit  from 
either  the  first-mentioned  or  the  last,  which  bore  the 
slightest  reference  to  the  object  of  his  artfully-pros- 
ecuted inquiries.  There  were  a  great  many  young 
ladies  in  a  great  many  houses,  the  greater  part 
whereof  were  shrewdly  suspected  by  the  male  and 
female  domestics  to  be  deeply  attached  to  somebody, 
or  perfectly  ready  to  become  so,  if  opportunity 
offered.  But  as  none  among  these  young  ladies  was 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  187 

Miss  Arabella  Allen,  the  information  left  Sam  at 
exactly  the  old  point  of  wisdom  at  which  he  had  stood 
before. 

Sam  struggled  across  the  Downs  against  a  good 
high  wind,  wondering  whether  it  was  always  neces- 
sary to  hold  your  hat  on  with  both  hands  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  and  came  to  a  shady  by-place  about 
which  were  sprinkled  several  little  villas  of  quiet  and 
secluded  appearance.  Outside  a  stable-door  at  the 
bottom  of  a  long  black  lane  without  a  thoroughfare,  a 
groom  in  undress  was  idling  about,  apparently  per- 
suading himself  that  he  was  doing  something  with  a 
spade  and  wheelbarrow.  We  may  remark,  in  this 
place,  that  we  have  scarcely  ever  seen  a  groom  near 
a  stable,  in  his  lazy  moments,  who  has  not  been,  to  a 
greater  or  less  extent,  the  victim  of  this  singular  de- 
lusion. 

Sam  thought  he  might  as  well  talk  to  this  groom  as 
to  any  one  else,  especially  as  he  was  very  tired  with 
walking,  and  there  was  a  good  large  stone  just  oppo- 
site the  wheelbarrow;  so  he  strolled  down  the  lane, 
and,  seating  himself  on  the  stone,  opened  a  conversa- 
tion with  the  ease  and  freedom  for  which  he  was  re- 
markable. 

'Mornin',  old  friend,'  said  Sam. 

'Arternoon,  you  mean,'  replied  the  groom,  casting  a 
surly  look  at  Sam. 

'You  're  wery  right,  old  friend,'  said  Sam;  'I  do 
mean  arternoon.  How  are  you?' 

'Why,  I  don't  find  myself  much  the  better  for 
seeing  of  you,'  replied  the  ill-tempered  groom. 

'That 's  wery  odd— that  is,'  said  Sam,  'for  you  look 
so  uncommon  cheerful,  and  seem  altogether  so  lively, 
that  it  does  vun's  heart  good  to  see  you.' 

The  surly  groom  looked  surlier  still  at  this,  but  not 
sufficiently  so  to  produce  any  effect  upon  Sam,  who 


188  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

immediately  inquired,  with  a  countenance  of  great 
anxiety,  whether  his  master's  name  was  not  Walker. 

'No,  it  ain't,'  said  the  groom. 

'Nor  Brown,  I  s'pose?'  said  Sam. 

'No,  it  ain't.' 

'NorVilson?' 

'No ;  nor  that  neither/  said  the  groom. 

'Veil,'  replied  Sam,  'then  I  'm  mistaken,  and  he 
hasn't  got  the  honour  o'  my  acquaintance,  which  I 
thought  he  had.  Don't  wait  here  out  o'  compliment 
to  me,'  said  Sam,  as  the  groom  wheeled  in  the  barrow, 
and  prepared  to  shut  the  gate.  'Ease  afore  cere- 
mony, old  boy;  I  '11  excuse  you.' 

'I  'd  knock  your  head  off  for  half-a-crown,'  said 
the  surly  groom,  bolting  one  half  of  the  gate. 

'Couldn't  afford  to  have  it  done  on  those  terms,' 
rejoined  Sam.  'It  'ud  be  worth  a  life's  board  vages 
at  least,  to  you,  and  'ud  be  cheap  at  that.  Make  my 
compliments  indoors.  Tell  'em  not  to  vait  dinner  for 
me,  and  say  they  needn't  mind  puttin'  any  by,  for 
it  '11  be  cold  afore  I  come  in.' 

In  reply  to  this,  the  groom  waxing  very  wroth, 
muttered  a  desire  to  damage  somebody's  person;  but 
disappeared  without  carrying  it  into  execution,  slanv 
ming  the  door  angrily  after  him,  and  wholly  un- 
heeding Sam's  affectionate  request,  that  he  would 
leave  him  a  lock  of  his  hair  before  he  went. 

Sam  continued  to  sit  on  the  large  stone,  meditating 
upon  what  was  best  to  be  done,  and  revolving  in  his 
mind  a  plan  for  knocking  at  all  the  doors  within  five 
miles  of  Bristol,  taking  them  at  a  hundred  and  fifty 
or  two  hundred  a  day,  and  endeavouring  to  find  Miss 
Arabella  by  that  expedient,  when  accident  all  of  a 
sudden  threw  in  his  way  what  he  might  have  sat  there 
for  a  twelvemonth  and  yet  not  found  without  it. 

Into  the  lane  where  he  sat,  there  opened  three  or 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  189 

four  garden-gates,  belonging  to  as  many  houses, 
which  though  detached  from  each  other,  were  only 
separated  by  their  gardens.  As  these  were  large  and 
long  and  well  planted  with  trees,  the  houses  were 
not  only  at  some  distance  off,  but  the  greater 
part  of  them  were  nearly  concealed  from  view. 
Sam  was  sitting  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
dust-heap  outside  the  next  gate  to  that  by  which 
the  groom  had  disappeared,  profoundly  turning 
over  in  his  mind  the  difficulties  of  his  present 
undertaking,  when  the  gate  opened,  and  a  female 
servant  came  out  into  the  lane  to  shake  some  bedside 
carpets. 

Sam  was  so  very  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  that 
it  is  probable  he  would  have  taken  no  more  notice  of 
the  young  woman  than  just  raising  his  head  and 
remarking  that  she  had  a  very  neat  and  pretty  figure, 
if  his  feelings  of  gallantry  had  not  been  most 
strongly  roused  by  observing  that  she  had  no  one  to 
help  her,  and  that  the  carpets  seemed  too  heavy  for 
her  single  strength.  Mr.  Weller  was  a  gentleman 
of  great  gallantry  in  his  own  way,  and  he  no  sooner 
remarked  this  circumstance  than  he  hastily  rose  from 
the  large  stone,  and  advanced  towards  her, 

'My  dear,'  said  Sam,  sliding  up  with  an  air  of 
great  respect,  'you  '11  spile  that  wery  pretty  figure 
out  o'  all  perportion  if  you  shake  them  carpets  by 
yourself.  Let  me  help  you.' 

The  young  lady,  who  had  been  coyly  affecting  not 
to  know  that  a  gentleman  was  so  near,  turned  round 
as  Sam  spoke— no  doubt  (indeed  she  said  so,  after- 
wards) to  decline  this  offer  from  a  perfect  stranger 
—when  instead  of  speaking,  she  started  back,  and 
uttered  a  half-suppressed  scream,  Sam  was  scarcely 
less  staggered,  for  in  the  countenance  of  the  well- 
shaped  female  servant,  he  beheld  the  very  features 


190  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

of  his  Valentine,  the  pretty  housemaid  from  Mr. 
Nupkins's. 

'Wy,  Mary,  my  dear!'  said  Sam. 

'Lauk,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Mary,  'how  you  do 
frighten  one !' 

Sam  made  no  verbal  answer  to  this  complaint,  nor 
can  we  precisely  say  what  reply  he  did  make.  We 
merely  know  that  after  a  short  pause  Mary  said,  'Lor, 
do  adun,  Mr.  Weller!'  and  that  his  hat  had  fallen  off 
a  few  moments  before — from  both  of  which  tokens 
we  should  be  disposed  to  infer  that  one  kiss  or  more 
had  passed  between  the  parties. 

'Why,  how  did  you  come  here?'  said  Mary,  when 
the  conversation  to  which  this  interruption  had  been 
offered,  was  resumed. 

'O'  course  I  came  to  look  arter  you,  my  darlin',' 
replied  Mr.  Weller;  for  once  permitting  his  passion 
to  get  the  better  of  his  veracity. 

'And  how  did  you  know  I  was  here?'  inquired 
Mary.  'Who  could  have  told  you  that  I  took  another 
service  at  Ipswich,  and  that  they  afterwards  moved  all 
the  way  here?  Who  could  have  told  you  that,  Mr. 
Weller?' 

'Ah  to  be  sure/  said  Sam,  with  a  cunning  look, 
'that 's  the  pint.  Who  could  ha'  told  me?' 

'It  wasn't  Mr.  Muzzle,  was  it?'  inquired  Mary. 

'Oh,  no/  replied  Sam,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  the 
head,  'it  warn't  him.' 

'It  must  have  been  the  cook/  said  Mary. 

'O'  course  it  must/  said  Sam. 

'Well,  I  never  heard  the  like  of  that!'  exclaimed 
Mary. 

'No  more  did  I/  said  Sam.  'But  Mary,  my  dear' : 
here  Sam's  manner  grew  extremely  affectionate ; 
'Mary,  my  dear,  I  Ve  got  another  affair  in  hand  as  is 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  191 

wery  pressin'.     There  's  one  o'  my  governor's  friends 
— Mr.  Winkle,  you  remember  him.' 

'Him  in  the  green  coat?'  said  Mary.  'Oh,  yes,  I 
remember  him.' 

'Well,'  said  Sam,  'he  's  in  a  horrid  state  o'  love; 
reg'larly  comfoozled,  and  done  over  with  it.' 

'Lor !'  interposed  Mary. 

'Yes,'  said  Sam :  'but  that 's  nothin'  if  we  could  find 
out  the  young  'ooman';  and  here  Sam,  with  many 
digressions  upon  the  personal  beauty  of  Mary,  and 
the  unspeakable  tortures  he  had  experienced  since  he 
last  saw  her,  gave  a  faithful  account  of  Mr.  Winkle's 
present  predicament. 

'Well,'  said  Mary,  'I  never  did!' 

'O'  course  not,'  said  Sam,  'and  nobody  never  did, 
nor  never  vill  neither ;  and  here  am  I  a  walkin'  about 
like  the  wandering  Jew — a  sportin'  character  you 
have  perhaps  heerd  on,  Mary,  my  dear,  as  wos  alvays 
doin'  a  match  agin'  time,  and  never  vent  to  sleep — 
looking  arter  this  here  Miss  Arabella  Allen.' 

'Miss  who?'  said  Mary,  in  great  astonishment. 

'Miss  Arabella  Allen,'  said  Sam. 

'Goodness  gracious!'  said  Mary,  pointing  to  the 
garden  door  which  the  sulky  groom  had  locked  after 
him.  'Why,  it's  that  very  house;  she's  been  living 
there  these  six  weeks.  Their  upper  housemaid,  which 
is  lady's  maid  too,  told  me  all  about  it  over  the  wash- 
house  palin's  before  the  family  was  out  of  bed,  one 
mornin'.' 

'Wot,  the  wery  next  door  to  you?'  said  Sam. 

'The  very  next,'  replied  Mary. 

Mr.  Weller  was  so  deeply  overcome  on  receiving 
this  intelligence  that  he  found  it  absolute^-  necessary 
to  cling  to  his  fair  informant  for  support ;  and  divers 
little  love  passages  had  passed  between  them  before 


192  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

he  was  sufficiently  collected  to  return  to  the  subject 

'Veil,'  said  Sam  at  length,  4if  this  don't  beat  cock- 
fightin',  nothin'  never  vill,  as  the  Lord  Mayor  said, 
Ten  the  chief  secretary  o'  state  proposed  his  mis- 
health  arter  dinner.  That  wery  next  house!  Wy. 
I  Ye  got  a  message  to  her  as  I  Ve  been  a  tryin'  all  day 
to  deliver.' 

"Ah,'  said  Mary,  *but  you  can't  deliver  it  now,  be- 
cause she  only  walks  in  the  garden  in  the  evening,  and 
then  only  for  a  very  little  time;  she  never  goes  out, 
without  the  old  lady/ 

Sam  ruminated  for  a  few  moments,  and  finally  hit 
upon  the  following  plan  of  operations :  that  he  should 
return  just  at  dusk — the  time  at  which  Arabella  in- 
variably took  her  walk — and,  being  admitted  by 
Mary  into  the  garden  of  the  house  to  which  she  be- 
longed, would  contrive  to  scramble  up  the  wall,  be- 
neath the  overhanging  boughs  of  a  large  pear-tree, 
which  would  effectually  screen  him  from  observation : 
would  there  deliver  his  message,  and  arrange,  if  pos- 
sible, an  interview  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Winkle  for  the 
ensuing  evening  at  the  same  hour.  Having  made 
this  arrangement  with  great  despatch,  he  assisted 
Mary  in  the  long-deferred  occupation  of  shaking  the 
carpets. 

It  is  not  half  as  innocent  a  thing  as  it  looks,  that 
shaking  little  pieces  of  carpet — at  least,  there  may  be 
no  great  harm  in  the  shaking,  but  the  folding  is  a 
very  insidious  process.  So  long  as  the  shaking  lasts, 
and  the  two  parties  are  kept  the  carpet's  length  apart, 
it  is  as  innocent  an  amusement  as  can  well  be  devised ; 
but  when  the  folding  begins,  and  the  distance  between 
them  gets^radually  lessened  from  one  half  of  its 
former  length  to  a  quarter,  and  then  to  an  eighth,  and 
then  to  a  sixteenth,  and  then  to  a  thirty-second,  if  the 
carpet  be  long  enough:  it  becomes  dangerous.  We 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  193 

do  not  know,  to  a  nicety,  how  many  pieces  of  carpet 
were  folded  in  this  instance,  but  we  can  venture  to 
state  that  as  many  pieces  as  there  were,  so  many  times 
did  Sam  kiss  the  pretty  housemaid. 

Mr.  Weller  regaled  himself  with  moderation  at  the 
nearest  tavern  until  it  was  nearly  dusk,  and  then  re- 
turned to  the  lane  without  the  thoroughfare.  Hav- 
ing been  admitted  into  the  garden  by  Mary,  and 
having  received  from  that  lady  sundry  admonitions 
concerning  the  safety  of  his  limbs  and  neck,  Sam 
mounted  into  the  pear-tree,  to  wait  until  Arabella 
should  come  in  sight. 

He  waited  so  long  without  this  anxiously  expected 
event  occurring,  that  he  began  to  think  it  was  not 
going  to  take  place  at  all,  when  he  heard  light  foot- 
steps upon  the  gravel,  and  immediately  afterwards 
beheld  Arabella  walking  pensively  down  the  garden. 
As  soon  as  she  came  nearly  below  the  tree,  Sam  began, 
by  way  of  gently  indicating  his  presence,  to  make 
sundry  diabolical  noises  similar  to  those  which  would 
probably  be  natural  to  a  person  of  middle  age  who 
had  been  afflicted  with  a  combination  of  inflammatory 
sore  throat,  croup,  and  whooping-cough,  from  his 
earliest  infancy. 

Upon  this,  *the  young  lady  cast  a  hurried  glance 
towards  the  spot  from  whence  the  dreadful  sounds 
proceeded;  and  her  previous  alarm  being  not  at  all 
diminished  when  she  saw  a  man  among  the  branches, 
she  would  most  certainly  have  decamped,  and  alarmed 
the  house,  had  not  fear  fortunately  deprived  her  of 
the  power  of  moving,  and  caused  her  to  sink  down  on 
a  garden  seat;  which  happened  by  good  luck  to  be 
near  at  hand. 

'She  's  a  goin'  off,'  soliloquised  Sam  in  great  per- 
plexity. 'Wot  a  thing  it  is,  as  these  here  young 
creeturs  icill  go  a  faintin'  avay  just  wen  they 


194  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

oughtn't  to.  Here,  young  'ooman,  Miss  Sawbones, 
Mrs.  Vinkle,  don't!' 

Whether  it  was  the  magic  of  Mr.  Winkle's  name, 
or  the  coolness  of  the  open  air,  or  some  recollection  of 
Mr.  Weller's  voice,  that  revived  Arabella,  matters  not. 
She  raised  her  head  and  languidly  inquired,  'Who  's 
that,  and  what  do  you  want?' 

'Hush,'  said  Sam,  swinging  himself  on  to  the  wall, 
and  crouching  there  in  as  small  a  compass  as  he  could 
reduce  himself  to,  'only  me,  miss,  only  me/ 

'Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,'  said  Arabella,  earnestly. 

'The  wery  same,  miss,'  replied  Sam.  'Here  's  Mr. 
Vinkle  reg'larly  sewed  up  vith  desperation,  miss/ 

'Ah !'  said  Arabella,  drawing  nearer  the  wall. 

'Ah  indeed,'  said  Sam.  'Ve  thought  ve  should  ha* 
been  obliged  to  strait-veskit  him  last  night ;  he  's  been 
a  ravin'  all  day;  and  he  says  if  he  can't  see  you  afore 
to-morrow  night 's  over,  he  vishes  he  may  be  some- 
thin'-unpleasanted  if  he  don't  drownd  his-self  / 

'Oh  no,  no,  Mr.  Weller!'  said  Arabella,  clasping 
her  hands. 

'That 's  wot  he  says,  miss,'  replied  Sam.  'He  's  a 
man  of  his  word,  and  it 's  my  opinion  he  '11  do  it,  miss. 
He 's  heerd  all  about  you  from  the  Sawbones  in 
barnacles/ 

'From  my  brother!'  said  Arabella,  having  some 
faint  recognition  of  Sam's  description. 

'I  don't  rightly  know  which  is  your  brother,  miss/ 
replied  Sam.  'Is  it  the  dirtiest  vun  o'  the  two?' 

'Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Weller,'  returned  Arabella,  'go  on. 
Make  haste,  pray/ 

'Well,  miss,'  said  Sam,  'he  's  heerd  all  about  it  from 
him;  and  it 's  the  gov'nor's  opinion  that  if  you  don't 
see  him  wery  quick,  the  Sawbones  as  we  Ve  been  a 
speaking  on,  'ull  get  as  much  extra  lead  in  his  head  as 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  195 

'11  damage  the  dewelopment  o'  the  orgins  if  they  ever 
put  it  in  spirits  artervards.' 

'Oh,  what  can  I  do  to  prevent  these  dreadful  quar- 
rels !'  exclaimed  Arabella. 

'It 's  the  suspicion  of  a  priory  'tachment  as  is  the 
cause  of  it  all,'  replied  Sam.  'You  'd  better  see  him, 
miss.' 

'But  how? — where?'  cried  Arabella.  'I  dare  not 
leave  the  house  alone.  My  brother  is  so  unkind,  so 
unreasonable!  I  know  how  strange  my  talking  thus 
to  you  must  appear,  Mr.  Weller,  but  I  am  very,  very 
unhappy — '  And  here  poor  Arabella  wept  so  bit- 
terly, that  Sam  grew  chivalrous. 

'It  may  seem  very  strange  talkin'  to  me  about  these 
here  affairs,  miss,'  said  Sam  with  great  vehemence; 
'but  all  I  can  say  is,  that  I  'm  not  only  ready  but  villin' 
to  do  anythin'  as  '11  make  matters  agreeable;  and  if 
chuckin'  either  o'  them  Sawboneses  out  o'  winder  'ull 
do  it,  I  'm  the  man.'  As  Sam  Weller  said  this,  he 
tucked  up  his  wristbands,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of 
falling  off  the  wall  in  so  doing,  to  intimate  his  readi- 
ness to  set  to  work  immediately. 

Flattering  as  these  professions  of  good  feeling 
were,  Arabella  resolutely  declined  (most  unaccounta- 
bly as  Sam  thought)  to  avail  herself  of  them.  For 
some  time  she  strenuously  refused  to  grant  Mr. 
Winkle  the  interview  Sam  had  so  pathetically  re- 
quested; but  at  length,  when  the  conversation  threat- 
ened to  be  interrupted  by  the  unwelcome  arrival  of  a 
third  party,  she  hurriedly  gave  him  to  understand, 
with  many  professions  of  gratitude,  that  it  was 
barely  possible  she  might  be  in  the  garden  an  hour 
later,  next  evening.  Sam  understood  this  perfectly 
well:  and  Arabella,  bestowing  upon  him  one  of  her 
sweetest  smiles,  tripped  gracefully  away,  leaving  Mr. 


196  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Weller  in  a  state  of  very  great  admiration  of  her 
charms,  both  personal  and  mental. 

Having  descended  in  safety  from  the  wall,  and 
not  forgotten  to  devote  a  few  moments  to  his  own 
particular  business  in  •  the  same  department,  Mr. 
Weller  then  made  the  best  of  his  way  back  to  the 
Bush,  where  his  prolonged  absence  had  occasioned 
much  speculation  and  some  alarm. 

'We  must  be  careful,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
listening  attentively  to  Sam's  tale,  'not  for  our  own 
sakes,  but  for  that  of  the  young  lady.  We  must  be 
very  cautious.' 

'Wei'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  with  marked  emphasis. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  momentary  look  of  indignation  at 
the  tone  of  this  remark,  subsided  into  his  character- 
istic expression  of  benevolence,  as  he  replied— 

'We,  sir!     I  shall  accompany  you.' 

'You!'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'I,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  mildly.  'In  affording 
you  this  interview,  the  young  lady  has  taken  a  natu- 
ral, perhaps,  but  still  a  very  imprudent  step.  If  I 
am  present  at  the  meeting,  a  mutual  friend,  who  is 
old  enough  to  be  the  father  of  both  parties,  the  voice 
of  calumny  can  never  be  raised  against  her  hereafter.' 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  lightened  with  honest  exulta- 
tion at  his  own  foresight,  as  he  spoke  thus.  Mr. 
Winkle  was  touched  by  this  little  trait  of  his  delicate 
respect  for  the  young  protegee  of  his  friend,  and 
took  his  hand  with  a  feeling  of  regard,  akin  t6  ven- 
eration. 

'You  shall  go,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'I  will,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Sam,  have  my  great- 
coat and  shawl  ready,  and  order  a  conveyance  to  be 
at  the  door  to-morrow  evening,  rather  earlier  than  is 
absolutely  necessary,  in  order  that  we  may  be  in  good 
time.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  197 

Mr.  Weller  touched  his  hat,  as  an  earnest  of  his 
obedience,  and  withdrew  to  make  all  needful  prepa- 
rations for  the  expedition. 

The  coach  was  punctual  to  the  time  appointed ;  and 
Mr.  Weller,  after  duly  installing  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Winkle  inside,  took  his  seat  on  the  box  by  the 
driver.  They  alighted,  as  had  been  agreed  on,  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  place  of  rendezvous, 
and  desiring  the  coachman  to  await  their  return,  pro- 
ceeded the  remaining  distance  on  foot. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  undertaking  that  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  many  smiles  and  various  other  indi- 
cations of  great  self-satisfaction,  produced  from  one 
of  his  coat  pockets  a  dark  lantern,  with  which  he  had 
specially  provided  himself  for  the  occasion,  and  the 
great  mechanical  beauty  of  which  he  proceeded  to 
explain  to  Mr.  Winkle  as  they  walked  along,  to  the  no 
small  surprise  of  the  few  stragglers  they  met. 

'I  should  have  been  the  better  for  something  of 
this  kind  in  my  last  garden  expedition  at  night;  eh, 
Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  good-humouredly 
round  at  his  follower,  who  was  trudging  behind. 

'Wery  nice  things,  if  they  're  managed  properly, 
sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  'but  when  you  don't  want  to 
be  seen,  I  think  they  're  more  useful  arter  the  can- 
dle 's  gone  out,  than  wen  it 's  alight.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  appeared  struck  by  Sam's  remarks, 
for  he  put  the  lantern  into  his  pocket  again,  and  they 
walked  on  in  silence. 

'Down  here,  sir,'  said  Sam.  'Let  me  lead  the  way. 
This  is  the  lane,  sir.' 

Down  the  lane  they  went,  and  dark  enough  it  was. 
Mr.  Pickwick  brought  out  the  lantern,  once  or  twice, 
as  they  groped  their  way  along,  and  threw  a  very 
brilliant  little  tunnel  of  light  before  them,  about  a 
foot  in  diameter.  It  was  very  pretty  to  look  at.  but 


198  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  rendering  surrounding 
objects  rather  darker  than  before. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  large  stone.  Here 
Sam  recommended  his  master  and  Mr.  Winkle  to 
seat  themselves,  while  he  reconnoitred,  and  ascer- 
tained whether  Mary  was  yet  in  waiting. 

After  an  absence  of  five  or  ten  minutes,  Sam  re- 
turned, to  say  that  the  gate  was  opened,  and  all  quiet. 
Following  him  with  stealthy  tread,  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Winkle  soon  found  themselves  in  the  garden. 
Here  everybody  said  'Hush!'  a  good  many  times; 
and  that  being  done,  no  one  seemed  to  have  any 
very  distinct  apprehension  of  what  was  to  be  done 
next. 

'Is  Miss  Allen  in  the  garden  yet,  Mary?'  inquired 
Mr.  Winkle,  much  agitated. 

'I  don't  know,  sir,'  replied  the  pretty  housemaid. 
'The  best  thing  to  be  done,  sir,  will  be  for  Mr.  Weller 
to  give  you  a  hoist  up  into  the  tree,  and  perhaps  Mr. 
Pickwick  will  have  the  goodness  to  see  that  nobody 
comes  up  the  lane,  while  I  watch  at  the  other  end  of 
the  garden.  Goodness  gracious,  what 's  that !' 

'That  'ere  blessed  lantern  'ull  be  the  death  on  us 
all,'  exclaimed  Sam,  peevishly.  'Take  care  wot 
you  're  a  doin'  on,  sir ;  you  're  a  sendin'  a  blaze  o' 
light  right  into  the  back-parlour  winder.' 

'Dear  me!'  said  Mr..  Pickwick,  turning  hastily 
aside,  'I  didn't  mean  to  do  that.' 

'Now,  it 's  in  the  next  house,  sir,'  remonstrated 
Sam. 

'Bless  my  heart!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning 
round  again. 

'Now,  it 's  in  the  stable,  and  they  '11  think  the  place 
is  afire,'  said  Sam.  'Shut  it  up,  sir,  can't  you?' 

'It's  the  most  extraordinary  lantern  I  ever  met 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  199 

with,  in  all  my  life !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  greatly 
bewildered  by  the  effects  he  had  so  unintentionally 
produced.  'I  never  saw  such  a  powerful  reflector.' 

'It  11  be  vun  too  powerful  for  us,  if  you  keep 
blazin'  avay  in  that  manner,  sir,'  replied  Sam,  as  Mr. 
Pickwick,  after  various  unsuccessful  efforts,  man- 
aged to  close  the  slide.  'There  's  the  young  lady's 
footsteps.  Now,  Mr.  Vinkle,  sir,  up  vith  you.' 

'Stop,  stop!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  must  speak  to 
her  first.  Help  me  up,  Sam.' 

'Gently,  sir,'  said  Sam,  planting  his  head  against 
the  wall,  and  making  a  platform  of  his  back.  'Step 
atop  o'  that  'ere  flower-pot,  sir.  Now  then,  up  vith 
you.' 

'I  'm  afraid  I  shall  hurt  you,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Never  mind  me,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'Lend  him  a 
hand,  Mr.  Vinkle,  sir.  Steady,  sir,  steady!  That's 
the  time  o'  day!' 

As  Sam  spoke,  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  exertions  almost 
supernatural  in  a  gentleman  of  his  years  and  weight, 
contrived  to  get  upon  Sam's  back:  and  Sam  gently 
raising  himself  up,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  holding  on  fast 
by  the  top  of  the  wall,  while  Mr.  Winkle  clasped  him 
tight  by  the  legs,  they  contrived  by  these  means  to 
bring  his  spectacles  just  above  the  level  of  the  coping. 

'My  dear,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  over  the 
wall,  and  catching  sight  of  Arabella  on  the  other 
side,  'don't  be  frightened,  my  dear,  it  's  only  me. 

'Oh  pray  go  away,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Arabella. 
'Tell  them  all  to  go  away.  I  am  so  dreadfully 
frightened.  Dear,  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  don't  stop 
there.  You  '11  fall  down  and  kill  yourself,  J 

you  will.'  ,      .  j 

'Now,  pray  don't  alarm  yourself,  my  dear,    said 


200  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Pickwick,  soothingly.  'There  is  not  the  least 
cause  for  fear,  I  assure  you.  Stand  firm,  Sam,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  down. 

'All  right,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'Don't  be 
longer  than  you  can  conweniently  help,  sir.  You  're 
rayther  heavy.' 

'Only  another  moment,  Sam,'  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'I  merely  wished  you  to  know,  my  dear,  that 
I  should  not  have  allowed  my  young  friend  to  see 
you  in  this  clandestine  way,  if  the  situation  in  which 
you  are  placed  had  left  him  any  alternative;  and  lest 
the  impropriety  of  this  step  should  cause  you  any 
uneasiness,  my  love,  it  may  be  a  satisfaction  to  you 
to  know  that  I  am  present.  That 's  all,  my  dear.' 

'Indeed,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you  for  your  kindness  and  consideration,'  replied 
Arabella,  drying  her  tears  with  her  handkerchief. 
She  would  probably  have  said  much  more,  had  not 
Mr.  Pickwick's  head  disappeared  with  great  swift- 
ness, in  consequence  of  a  false  step  on  Sam's  shoulder, 
which  brought  him  suddenly  to  the  ground.  He  was 
up  again  in  an  instant,  however,  and  bidding  Mr. 
Winkle  make  haste  and  get  the  interview  over,  ran 
out  into  the  lane  to  keep  watch,  with  all  the  courage 
and  ardour  of  youth.  Mr.  Winkle  himself,  inspired 
by  the  occasion,  was  on  the  wall  in  a  moment,  merely 
pausing  to  request  Sam  to  be  careful  of  his  master. 

'I  '11  take  care  of  him,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'Leave 
him  to  me.' 

'Where  is  he  ?  What 's  he  doing,  Sam  ?'  inquired 
Mr.  Winkle. 

'Bless  his  old  gaiters,'  rejoined  Sam,  looking  out 
at  the  garden-door.  'He  's  a  keepin'  guard  in  the  lane 
vith  that  'ere  dark  lantern,  like  a  amiable  Guy 
Fawkesl  I  never  see  such  a  fine  creetur  in  my  days. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  201 

Blessed  if  I  don't  think  his  heart  must  ha'  been  born 
five-and-twenty  years  arter  his  body,  at  least !' 

Mr.  Winkle  stayed  not  to  hear  the  encomium  upon 
his  friend.  He  had  dropped  from  the  wall;  thrown 
himself  at  Arabella's  feet;  and  by  this  time  was  plead- 
ing the  sincerity  of  his  passion  with  an  eloquence 
worthy  even  of  Mr.  Pickwick  himself. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  in  the  open  air, 
an  elderly  gentleman  of  scientific  attainments  was 
seated  in  his  library,  two  or  three  houses  off,  writing  a 
philosophical  treatise,  and  ever  and  anon  moistening 
his  clay  and  his  labours  with  a  glass  of  claret  from  a 
venerable-looking  bottle  which  stood  by  his  side.  In 
the  agonies  of  composition,  the  elderly  gentleman 
looked  sometimes  at  the  carpet,  sometimes  at  the  ceil- 
ing, and  sometimes  at  the  wall ;  and  when  neither  car- 
pet, ceiling,  nor  wall,  afforded  the  requisite  degree  of 
inspiration,  he  looked  out  of  the  window. 

In  one  of  these  pauses  of  invention,  the  scientific 
gentleman  was  gazing  abstractedly  on  the  thick  dark- 
ness outside,  when  he  was  very  much  surprised  by 
observing  a  most  brilliant  light  glide  through  the  air, 
at  a  short  distance  above  the  ground,  and  almost  in- 
stantaneously vanish.  After  a  short  time  the  phe- 
nomenon was  repeated,  not  once  or  twice,  but  several 
times :  at  last  the  scientific  gentleman,  laying  down  his 
pen,  began  to  consider  to  what  natural  causes  these 
appearances  were  to  be  assigned. 

They  were  not  meteors :  they  were  too  low.  They 
were  not  glow-worms:  they  were  too  high.  They 
were  not  will-o'-the-wisps;  they  were  not  fire-flies; 
they  were  not  fire-works.  What  could  they  be?  Some 
extraordinary  and  wonderful  phenomenon  of  nature, 
which  no  philosopher  had  ever  seen  before;  something 
which  it  had  been  reserved  for  him  alone  to  discover, 


202  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  which  he  should  immortalise  his  name  by  chron- 
icling for  the  benefit  of  posterity.  Full  of  this  idea, 
the  scientific  gentleman  seized  his  pen  again,  and 
committed  to  paper  sundry  notes  of  these  unparal- 
leled appearances,  with  the  date,  day,  hour,  minute, 
and  precise  second  at  which  they  were  visible:  all  of 
which  were  to  form  the  data  of  a  voluminous  treatise 
of  great  research  and  deep  learning,  which  should 
astonish  all  the  atmospherical  sages  that  ever  drew 
breath  in  any  part  of  the  civilised  globe. 

He  threw  himself  back  in  his  easy  chair,  wrapped 
in  contemplations  of  his  future  greatness.  The  mys- 
terious light  appeared  more  brilliantly  than  before: 
dancing,  to  all  appearance,  up  and  down  the  lane, 
crossing  from  side  to  side,  and  moving  in  an  orbit  as 
eccentric  as  comets  themselves. 

The  scientific  gentleman  was  a  bachelor.  He  had 
no  wife  to  call  in  and  astonish,  so  he  rang  the  bell  for 
his  servant. 

Truffle,'  said  the  scientific  gentleman,  'there  is 
something  very  extraordinary  in  the  air  to-night. 
Did  you  see  that?'  said  the  scientific  gentleman,  point- 
ing out  of  the  window,  as  the  light  again  became 
visible. 

'Yes,  I  did,  sir.' 

'What  do  you  think  of  it,  Pruffle?' 

'Think  of  it,  sir?' 

'Yes.  You  have  been  bred  up  in  this  country. 
What  should  you  say  was  the  cause  of  those  lights, 
now?' 

The  scientific  gentleman  smilingly  anticipated 
Pruffle's  reply  that  he  could  assign  no  cause  for  them 
at  all.  Pruffle  meditated. 

'I  should  say  it  was  thieves,  sir,'  said  Pruffle  at 
length. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  203 

'You  're  a  fool,  and  may  go  downstairs,'  said  the 
scientific  gentleman. 

'Thank  you,  sir,'  said  Pruffle.     And  down  he  went. 

But  the  scientific  gentleman  could  not  rest  under 
the  idea  of  the  ingenious  treatise  he  had  projected 
being  lost  to  the  world,  which  must  inevitably  be  the 
case  if  the  speculation  of  the  ingenious  Mr.  P  nil  He 
were  not  stifled  in  its  birth.  He  put  on  his  hat  and 
walked  quickly  down  the  garden,  determined  to  inves- 
tigate the  matter  to  the  very  bottom. 

Now,  shortly  before  the  scientific  gentleman  walked 
out  into  the  garden,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  run  down  the 
lane  as  fast  as  he  could,  to  convey  a  false  alarm  that 
somebody  was  coming  that  way ;  occasionally  drawing 
back  the  slide  of  the  dark  lantern  to  keep  himself 
from  the  ditch.  The  alarm  was  no  sooner  given,  than 
Mr.  Winkle  scrambled  back  over  the  wall,  and  Ara- 
bella ran  into  the  house:  the  garden-gate  was  shut, 
and  the  three  adventurers  were  making  the  best  of 
their  way  down  the  lane,  when  the}'  were  startled  by 
the  scientific  gentleman  unlocking  his  garden-gate. 

'Hold  hard,'  whispered  Sam,  who  was,  of  course, 
the  first  of  the  party.  'Show  a  light  for  just  vun  sec- 
ond, sir.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  Sam,  see- 
ing a  man's  head  peeping  out  very  cautiously  within 
half  a  yard  of  his  own,  gave  it  a  gentle  tap  with  his 
clenched  fist,  which  knocked  it,  with  a  hollow  sound, 
against  the  gate.  Having  performed  this  feat  with 
great  suddenness  and  dexterity,  Mr.  Weller  caught 
Mr.  Pickwick  up  on  his  back,  and  followed  Mr.  Win- 
kle down  the  lane  at  a  pace  which,  considering  the 
burden  he  carried,  was  perfectly  astonishing. 

'Have  you  got  your  vind  back  agin,  sir?'  inquired 
Sam,  when  they  had  reached  the  end. 


204  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Quite.     Quite,  now,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
.  'Then  come  along,  sir,'  said  Sam,  setting  his  master 
on  his  feet  again.     'Come  betveen  us,  sir.     Not  half 
a  mile  to  run.     Think  you  're  vinning  a  cup,   sir. 
Now  for  it.' 

Thus  encouraged,  Mr.  Pickwick  made  the  very  best 
use  of  his  legs.  It  may  be  confidently  stated  that  a 
pair  of  black  gaiters  never  got  over  the  ground  in 
better  style  than  did  those  of  Mr.  Pickwick  on  this 
memorable  occasion. 

The  coach  was  waiting,  the  horses  were  fresh,  the 
roads  were  good,  and  the  driver  was  willing.  The 
whole  party  arrived  in  safety  at  the  Bush  before  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  recovered  his  breath. 

'In  with  you  at  once,  sir,'  said  Sam,  as  he  helped 
his  master  out.  'Don't  stop  a  second  in  the  street, 
arter  that  'ere  exercise.  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  con- 
tinued Sam,  touching  his  hat  as  Mr.  Winkle  de- 
scended. 'Hope  there  warn't  a  priory  'tachment,  sir.' 

Mr.  Winkle  grasped  his  humble  friend  by  the  hand, 
and  whispered  in  his  ear,  'It 's  all  right,  Sam ;  quite 
right.'  Upon  which  Mr.  Weller  struck  three  distinct 
blows  upon  his  nose  in  token  of  intelligence,  smiled, 
winked,  and  proceeded  to  put  the  steps  up,  with  a 
countenance  expressive  of  lively  satisfaction. 

As  to  the  scientific  gentleman,  he  demonstrated,  in 
a  masterly  treatise,  that  these  wonderful  lights  were 
the  effect  of  electricity;  and  clearly  proved  the  same 
by  detailing  how  a  flash  of  fire  danced  before  his  eyes 
when  he  put  his  head  out  of  the  gate,  and  how  he  re- 
ceived a  shock  which  stunned  him  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  afterwards;  which  demonstration  delighted  all 
the  Scientific  Associations  beyond  measure,  and  caused 
him  to  be  considered  a  light  of  science  ever  after- 
wards. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  205 


CHAPTER  XL 

INTRODUCES  MR.  PICKWICK  TO  A  NEW  AND  NOT  UNIN- 
TERESTING  SCENE   IN    THE   GREAT   DRAMA   OF   LIFE 

THE  remainder  of  the  period  which  Mr.  Pickwick  had 
assigned  as  the  duration  of  the  stay  at  Bath,  passed 
over  without  the  occurrence  of  anything  material. 
Trinity  Term  commenced.  On  the  expiration  of  its 
first  week,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  returned  to 
London;  and  the  former  gentleman,  attended  of 
course  by  Sam,  straightway  repaired  to  his  old  quar- 
ters at  the  George  and  Vulture. 

On  the  third  morning  after  their  arrival,  just  as  all 
the  clocks  in  the  city  were  striking  nine  individually, 
and  somewhere  about  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
collectively,  Sam  was  taking  the  air  in  George  Yard, 
when  a  queer  sort  of  fresh  painted  vehicle  drove  up, 
out  of  which  there  jumped  with  great  agility,  throw- 
ing the  reins  to  a  stout  man  who  sat  beside  him,  a 
queer  sort  of  gentleman,  who  seemed  made  for  the 
vehicle,  and  the  vehicle  for  him. 

The  vehicle  was  not  exactly  a  gig,  neither  was  it  a 
stanhope.  It  was  not  what  is  currently  denominated 
a  dog-cart,  neither  was  it  a  taxed-cart,  nor  a  chaise- 
cart,  nor  a  guillotined  cabriolet;  and  yet  it  had  some- 
thing of  the  character  of  each  and  every  of  these 
machines.  It  was  painted  a  bright  yellow,  with  the 
shafts  and  wheels  picked  out  in  black ;  and  the  driver 
sat,  in  the  orthodox  sporting  style,  on  cushions  piled 
about  two  feet  above  the  rail.  The  horse  was  a  bay, 
a  well-looking  animal  enough ;  but  with  something  of 
a  flash  and  dog-fighting  air  about  him,  nevertheless, 
which  accorded  both  with  the  vehicle  and  his  master. 

The  master  himself  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  with 


206  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

black  hair,  and  carefully  combed  whiskers.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  particularly  gorgeous  manner,  with 
plenty  of  articles  of  jewellery  about  him — all  about 
three  sizes  larger  than  those  which  are  usually  worn 
by  gentlemen — and  a  rough  great-coat  to  crown  the 
whole.  Into  one  pocket  of  this  great-coat,  he  thrust 
his  left  hand  the  moment  he  dismounted,  while  from 
the  other  he  drew  forth,  with  his  right,  a  very  bright 
and  glaring  silk  handkerchief,  with  which  he  whisked 
a  speck  or  two  of  dust  from  his  boots,  and  then, 
crumpling  it  in  his  hand,  swaggered  up  the  court. 

It  had  not  escaped  Sam's  attention  that,  when  this 
person  dismounted,  a  shabby-looking  man  in  a  brown 
great-coat  shorn  of  divers  buttons,  who  had  been  pre- 
viously slinking  about  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way, 
crossed  over,  and  remained  stationary  close  by.  Hav- 
ing something  more  than  a  suspicion  of  the  object 
of  the  gentleman's  visit,  Sam  preceded  him  to  the 
George  and  Vulture,  and,  turning  sharp  round, 
planted  himself  in  the  centre  of  the  doorway. 

'Now,  my  fine  fellow!'  said  the  man  in  the  rough 
coat,  in  an  imperious  tone,  attempting  at  the  same 
time  to  push  his  way  past. 

'Now,  sir,  wot 's  the  matter !'  replied  Sam,  return- 
ing the  push  with  compound  interest. 

'Come,  none  of  this,  my  man;  this  won't  do  with 
me,'  said  the  owner  of  the  rough  coat,  raising  his 
voice,  and  turning  white.  'Here,  Smouch!' 

'Well,  wot 's  amiss  here  ?'  growled  the  man  in  the 
brown  coat,  who  had  been  gradually  sneaking  up  the 
court  during  this  short  dialogue. 

'Only  some  insolence  of  this  young  man's,'  said  the 
principal,  giving  Sam  another  push. 

'Come,  none  o'  this  gammon,'  growled  Smouch, 
giving  him  another,  and  a  harder  one. 

This  last  push  had  the  effect  which  it  was  intended 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  207 

by  the  experienced  Mr.  Smouch  to  produce;  for  while 
Sam,  anxious  to  return  the  compliment,  was  grinding 
that  gentleman's  body  against  the  doorpost,  the  prin- 
cipal crept  past,  and  made  his  way  to  the  bar:  whither 
Sam,  after  bandying  a  few  epithetical  remarks  with 
Mr.  Smouch,  followed  at  once. 

'Good  morning,  my  dear,'  said  the  principal,  ad- 
dressing the  young  lady  at  the  bar,  with  Botany  Bay 
ease,  and  Xew  South  Wales  gentility;  'which  is  Mr. 
Pickwick's  room,  my  dear?' 

'Show  him  up,'  said  the  bar-maid  to  a  waiter,  with- 
out deigning  another  look  at  the  exquisite,  in  reply 
to  his  inquiry. 

The  waiter  led  the  way  upstairs  as  he  was  desired, 
and  the  man  in  the  rough  coat  followed,  with  Sam 
behind  him:  who,  in  his  progress  up  the  staircase,  in- 
dulged in  sundry  gestures  indicative  of  supreme  con- 
tempt and  defiance:  to  the  unspeakable  gratification 
of  the  servants  and  other  lookers-on.  Mr.  Smouch, 
who  was  troubled  with  a  hoarse  cough,  remained  be- 
low, and  expectorated  in  the  passage. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  fast  asleep  in  bed,  when  his  early 
visitor,  followed  by  Sam,  entered  the  room.  The 
noise  they  made,  in  so  doing,  awoke  him. 

'Shaving  water,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  from 
within  the  curtains. 

'Shave  you  directly,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  the  visitor, 
drawing  one  of  them  back  from  the  bed's  head. 
'I  Ve  got  an  execution  against  you,  at  the  suit  of 
Bardell. — Here's  the  warrant— Common  Pleas.— 
Here  's  my  card.  I  suppose  you  '11  come  over  to  my 
house.'  Giving  Mr.  Pickwick  a  friendly  tap  on  the 
shoulder,  the  sheriff's  officer  (for  such  he  was)  threw 
his  card  on  the  counterpane,  and  pulled  a  gold  tooth- 
pick from  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

'Namby  's  the  name,'  said  the  sheriff's  deputy,  as 


208  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  his  spectacles  from  under  the  pil- 
low, and  put  them  on,  to  read  the  card.  'Namby, 
Bell  Alley,  Coleman  Street.' 

At  this  point,  Sam  Weller,  who  had  had  his  eyes 
fixed  hitherto  on  Mr.  Namby's  shining  beaver,  inter- 
fered : 

'Are  you  a  Quaker?'  said  Sam. 

'I  '11  let  you  know  who  I  am,  before  I  've  done  with 
you,'  replied  the  indignant  officer.  'I  '11  teach  you 
manners,  my  fine  fellow,  one  of  these  fine  mornings.' 

'Thank  'ee,'  said  Sam.  'I  '11  do  the  same  to  you. 
Take  your  hat  off.9  With  this,  Mr.  Weller,  in~  the 
most  dexterous  manner,  knocked  Mr.  Namby's  hat 
to  the  other  side  of  the  room :  with  such  violence,  that 
he  had  very  nearly  caused  him  to  swallow  the  gold 
toothpick  into  the  bargain. 

'Observe  this,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  the  disconcerted 
officer,  gasping  for  breath.  'I  've  been  assaulted  in 
the  execution  of  my  dooty  by  your  servant  in  your 
chamber.  I  'm  in  bodily  fear.  I  call  you  to  witness 
this/ 

'Don't  witness  nothin/  sir,'  interposed  Sam.  'Shut 
your  eyes  up  tight,  sir.  I  'd  pitch  him  out  o'  winder, 
only  he  couldn't  fall  far  enough,  'cause  o'  the  leads 
outside.' 

'Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  an  angry  voice,  as  his 
attendant  made  various  demonstrations  of  hostilities, 
'if  you  say  another  word,  or  offer  the  slightest  inter- 
ference with  this  person,  I  discharge  you  that  instant/ 

'But,  sir!'  said  Sam. 

'Hold  your  tongue/  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'Take  that  hat  up  again/ 

But  this  Sam  flatly  and  positively  refused  to  do; 
and,  after  he  had  been  severely  reprimanded  by  his 
master,  the  officer,  being  in  a  hurry,  condescended  to 
pick  it  up  himself:  venting  a  great  variety  of  threats 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  209 

against  Sam  meanwhile,  which  that  gentleman  re- 
ceived with  perfect  composure:  merely  observing  that 
if  Mr.  Namby  would  have  the  goodness  to  put  his  hat 
on  again,  he  would  knock  it  into  the  latter  end  of  next 
week.  Mr.  Namby,  perhaps  thinking  that  such  a 
process  might  be  productive  of  inconvenience  to  him- 
self, declined  to  offer  the  temptation,  and,  soon  after, 
called  up  Smouch.  Having  informed  him  that  the 
capture  was  made,  and  that  he  was  to  wait  for  the 
prisoner  until  he  should  have  finished  dressing, 
Namby  then  swaggered  out,  and  drove  away. 
Smouch,  requesting  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a  surly  manner 
'to  be  as  alive  as  he  could,  for  it  was  a  busy  time,' 
drew  up  a  chair  by  the  door,  and  sat  there,  until  he 
had  finished  dressing.  Sam  was  then  despatched  for 
a  hackney  coach,  and  in  it  the  triumvirate  proceeded 
to  Coleman  Street.  It  was  fortunate  the  distance 
was  short;  for  Mr.  Smouch,  besides  possessing  no 
very  enchanting  conversational  powers,  was  rendered 
a  decidedly  unpleasant  companion  in  a  limited  space, 
by  the  physical  weakness  to  which  we  have  elsewhere 
adverted. 

The  coach  having  turned  into  a  very  narrow  and 
dark  street,  stopped  before  a  house  with  iron  bars  to 
all  the  windows ;  the  door-posts  of  which  were  graced 
by  the  name  and  title  of  'Namby,  Officer  to  the  Sher- 
iffs of  London':  the  inner  gate  having  been  opened 
by  a  gentleman  who  might  have  passed  for  a  neglected 
twin  brother  of  Mr.  Smouch,  and  who  was  endowed 
with  a  large  key  for  the  purpose,  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
shown  into  the  'coffee-room.' 

This  coffee-room  was  a  front-parlour:  the  princi- 
pal features  of  which  were  fresh  sand  and  stale  to- 
bacco smoke.  Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  the  three 
persons  who  were  seated  in  it  when  he  entered;  and 
having  despatched  Sam  fov  Perker,  withdrew  into  an 


210  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

obscure  corner,  and  from  thence  looked  with  some 
curiosity  upon  his  new  companions. 

One  of  these  was  a  mere  boy  of  nineteen  or  twenty, 
who.  though  it  was  yet  barely  ten  o'clock,  was  drink- 
ing gin-and- water,  and  smoking  a  cigar:  amusements 
tc  which,  judging  from  his  inflamed  countenance, 
he  had  devoted  himself  pretty  constantly  for  the  last 
year  or  two  of  his  life.  Opposite  him,  engaged  in 
stirring  the  fire  with  the  toe  of  his  right  boot,  was  a 
coarse  vulgar  young  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a  sal- 
low face  and  harsh  voice :  evidently  possessed  of  that 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  captivating  freedom  of 
manner,  which  is  to  be  acquired  in  public-house  par- 
lours, and  at  low  billiard-tables.  The  third  tenant 
of  the  apartment  was  a  middle-aged  man  in  a  very 
old  suit  of  black,  who  looked  pale  and  haggard,  and 
paced  up  and  down  the  room  incessantly:  stopping, 
now  and  then,  to  look  with  great  anxiety  out  of  the 
window  as  if  he  expected  somebody,  and  then  resum- 
ing his  walk. 

4  You  'd  better  have  the  loan  of  my  razor  this  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Ayresleigh,'  said  the  man  who  was  stirring 
the  fire,  tipping  the  wink  to  his  friend  the  boy. 

'Thank  you,  no,  I  shan't  want  it;  I  expect  I  shall 
be  out,  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so,'  replied  the 
other  in  a  hurried  manner.  Then,  walking  again  up 
to  the  window,  and  once  more  returning  disappointed, 
he  sighed  deeply,  and  left  the  room;  upon  which  the 
other  two  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

'Well,  I  never  saw  such  a  game  as  that/  said  the 
gentleman  who  had  offered  the  razor,  whose  name 
appeared  to  be  Price.  'Never!'  Mr.  Price  con- 
firmed the  assertion  with  an  oath,  and  then  laughed 
again,  when  of  course  the  boy  (who  thought  his  com- 
panion one  of  the  most  dashing  fellows  alive)  laughed 
also. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  211 

'You  'd  hardly  think,  would  you  now,'  said  Price, 
turning  towards  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  that  chap  's  been 
here  a  week  yesterday,  and  never  once  shaved  himself 
yet,  because  he  feels  so  certain  he  's  going  out  in  half 
an  hour's  time,  that  he  thinks  he  may  as  well  put  it 
off  till  he  gets  home?' 

'Poor  man!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Are  his  chances 
of  getting  out  of  his  difficulties  really  so  great?' 

'Chances  be  d — d,'  replied  Price;  'he  hasn't  half 
the  ghost  of  one.  I  wouldn't  give  that  for  his  chance 
of  walking  about  the  streets  this  time  ten  years.' 
With  this  Mr.  Price  snapped  his  fingers  contemptu- 
ously, and  rang  the  bell. 

'Give  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  Crookey,'  said  Mr.  Price 
to  the  attendant,  who  in  dress  and  general  appearance 
looked  something  between  a  bankrupt  grazier,  and  a 
drover  in  a  state  of  insolvency;  'and  a  glass  of 
brandy-and-water,  Crookey,  d'  ye  hear?  I  'm  going 
to  write  to  my  father,  and  I  must  have  a  stimulant, 
or  I  shan't  be  able  to  pitch  it  strong  enough  into  the 
old  boy.'  At  this  facetious  speech,  the  young  boy, 
it  is  almost  needless  to  say,  was  fairly  convulsed. 

'That 's  right,'  said  Mr.  Price.  'Never  say  die. 
All  fun,  ain't  it?' 

'Prime !'  said  the  young  gentleman. 

'You  've  some  spirit  about  you,  you  have,'  said 
Price.  'You  've  seen  something  of  life.' 

'I  rather  think  I  have!'  replied  the  boy.  He  had 
looked  at  it  through  the  dirty  panes  of  glass  in  a  bar 
door. 

Mr.  Pickwick  feeling  not  a  little  disgusted  with 
this  dialogue,  as  well  as  with  the  air  and  manner  of 
the  two  beings  by  whom  it  had  been  carried  on,  was 
about  to  inquire  whether  he  could  not  be  accommo- 
dated with  a  private  sitting-room,  when  two  or  three 
strangers  of  genteel  appearance  entered,  at  sight  of 


212  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

whom  the  boy  threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire,  and 
whispering  to  Mr.  Price  that  they  had  come  to  'make 
it  all  right'  for  him,  joined  them  at  a  table  in  the 
further  end  of  the  room. 

It  would  appear,  however,  that  matters  were  not 
going  to  be  made  all  right  quite  so  speedily  as  the 
young  gentleman  anticipated;  for  a  very  long  con- 
versation ensued,  of  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not 
avoid  hearing  certain  angry  fragments  regarding 
dissolute  conduct,  and  repeated  forgiveness.  At 
last,  there  were  very  distinct  allusions  made  by  the 
oldest  gentleman  of  the  part}^  to  one  Whitecross 
Street,  at  which  the  young  gentleman,  notwithstand- 
ing his  primeness  and  his  spirit  and  his  knowledge  of 
life  into  the  bargain,  reclined  his  head  upon  the  table, 
and  howled  dismally. 

Very  much  satisfied  with  this  sudden  bringing 
down  of  the  youth's  valour,  and  this  effectual  lower- 
ing of  his  tone,  Mr.  Pickwick  rang  the  bell,  and  was 
shown,  at  his  own  request,  into  a  private  room  fur- 
nished with  a  carpet,  table,  chairs,  sideboard  and  sofa, 
and  ornamented  with  a  looking-glass,  and  various  old 
prints.  Here  he  had  the  advantage  of  hearing  Mrs. 
Namby's  performance  on  a  square  piano  overhead, 
while  the  breakfast  was  getting  ready ;  when  it  came, 
Mr.  Perker  came  too. 

'Aha,  my  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man,  'nailed  at  last, 
eh  ?  Come,  come,  I  'm  not  sorry  for  it  either,  because 
now  you  '11  see  the  absurdity  of  this  conduct.  I  've 
noted  down  the  amount  of  the  taxed  costs  and  dam- 
ages for  which  the  ca-sa  was  issued,  and  we  had  better 
settle  at  once  and  lose  no  time.  Namby  is  come  home 
by  this  time,  I  dare  say.  What  say  you,  my  dear  sir? 
Shall  I  draw  a  cheque,  or  will  you?'  The  little  man 
rubbed  his  hands  with  affected  cheerfulness  as  he  said 
this,  but  glancing  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  213 

could  not  forbear  at  the  same  time  casting  a  despond- 
ing look  towards  Sam  Weller. 

'Perker,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'let  me  hear  no  more 
of  this,  I  beg.  I  see  no  advantage  in  staying  here, 
so  I  shall  go  to  prison  to-night.' 

'You  can't  go  to  Whitecross  Street,  my  dear  sir,' 
said  Perker.  'Impossible!  There  are  sixty  beds  in 
a  ward ;  and  the  bolt 's  on,  sixteen  hours  out  of  the 
f our-and-t  wenty . ' 

'I  would  rather  go  to  some  other  place  of  confine- 
ment if  I  can,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'If  not,  I  must 
make  the  best  I  can  of  that.' 

'You  can  go  to  the  Fleet,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  're 
determined  to  go  somewhere,'  said  Perker. 

'That  '11  do,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  '11  go  there 
directly  I  have  finished  my  breakfast.' 

'Stop,  stop,  my  dear  sir;  not  the  least  occasion  for 
being  in  such  a  violent  hurry  to  get  into  a  place  that 
most  other  men  are  as  eager  to  get  out  of,'  said  the 
good-natured  little  attorney.  'We  must  have  a 
habeas  corpus.  There  '11  be  no  judge  at  chambers 
till  four  o'clock  this  afternoon.  You  must  wait  till 
then.' 

'Very  good,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  unmoved 
patience.  'Then  we  will  have  a  chop,  here,  at  two. 
See  about  it,  Sam,  and  tell  them  to  be  punctual.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  remaining  firm,  despite  all  the  re- 
monstrances and  arguments  of  Perker,  the  chops 
appeared  and  disappeared  in  due  course ;  he  was  then 
put  into  another  hackney-coach,  and  carried  off  to 
Chancery  Lane,  after  waiting  half  an  hour  or  so  for 
Mr.  Namby,  who  had  a  select  dinner-party,  and  could 
on  no  account  be  disturbed  before. 

There  were  two  judges  in  attendance  at  Serjeants' 
Inn — one  King's  Bench,  and  one  Common  Pleas— 
and  a  great  deal  of  business  appeared  to  be  transact- 


214  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ing  before  them,  if  the  number  of  lawyers'  clerks 
who  were  hurrying  in  and  out  with  bundles  of  papers, 
afforded  any  test.  When  they  reached  the  low  arch- 
way which  forms  the  entrance  to  the  Inn,  Perker  was 
detained  a  few  moments  parleying  with  the  coachman 
about  the  fare  and  the  change;  and  Mr.  Pickwick, 
stepping  to  one  side  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the 
stream  of  people  that  were  pouring  in  and  out,  looked 
about  him  with  some  curiosity. 

The  people  that  attracted  his  attention  most,  were 
three  or  four  men  of  shabby-genteel  appearance,  who 
touched  their  hats  to  many  of  the  attorneys  wlio 
passed,  and  seemed  to  have  some  business  there,  the 
nature  of  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  divine. 
They  were  curious-looking  fellows.  One  was  a  slim 
and  rather  lame  man  in  rusty  black,  and  a  white 
neckerchief ;  another  was  a  stout  burly  person,  dressed 
in  the  same  apparel,  with  a  great  reddish-black  cloth 
round  his  neck;  a  third  was  a  little  weazen  drunken- 
looking  body,  with  a  pimply  face.  They  were  loiter- 
ing about,  with  their  hands  behind  them,  and  now  and 
then,  with  an  anxious  countenance,  whispered  some- 
thing in  the  ear  of  some  of  the  gentlemen  with  papers 
as  they  hurried  by.  Mr.  Pickwick  remembered  to 
have  very  often  observed  them  lounging  under  the 
archway  when  he  had  been  walking  past,  and  his 
curiosity  was  quite  excited  to  know  to  what  branch  of 
the  profession  these  dingy-looking  loungers  could 
possibly  belong. 

He  was  about  to  propound  the  question  to  Namby, 
who  kept  close  beside  him,  sucking  a  large  gold  ring 
on  his  little  finger,  when  Perker  bustled  up,  and  ob- 
serving that  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  led  the  way 
into  the  Inn.  As  Mr.  Pickwick  followed,  the  lame 
man  stepped  up  to  him,  and  civilly  touching  his  hat, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  215 

held  out  a  written  card,  which  Mr.  Pickwick,  not  wish- 
ing to  hurt  the  man's  feelings  by  refusing,  cour- 
teously accepted  and  deposited  in  his  waistcoat-pocket. 

'Now,'  said  Perker,  turning  round  before  he  en- 
tered one  of  the  offices,  to  see  that  his  companions 
were  close  behind  him.  'In  here,  my  dear  sir. 
Hallo,  what  do  you  want  ?' 

This  last  question  was  addressed  to  the  lame  man, 
who,  unobserved  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  made  one  of  the 
party.  In  reply  to  it,  the  lame  man  touched  his  hat 
again,  with  all  imaginable  politeness,  and  motioned 
towards  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,  no,'  said  Perker  with  a  smile.  'We  don't  want 
you,  my  dear  friend,  we  don't  want  you.' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  the  lame  man.  'The 
gentleman  took  my  card.  I  hope  you  will  employ 
me,  sir.  The  gentleman  nodded  to  me.  I  '11  be 
judged  by  the  gentleman  himself.  You  nodded  to 
me,  sir?' 

'Pooh,  pooh,  nonsense.  You  didn't  nod  to  any- 
body, Pickwick?  A  mistake,  a  mistake,'  said  Perker. 

'The  gentleman  handed  me  his  card,'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  producing  it  from  his  waistcoat-pocket. 
'I  accepted  it,  as  the  gentleman  seemed  to  wish  it — in 
fact  I  had  some  curiosity  to  look  at  it  when  I  should 
be  at  leisure.  I — ' 

The  little  attorney  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  re- 
turning the  card  to  the  lame  man,  informing  him  it 
was  all  a  mistake,  whispered  to  Mr.  Pickwick  as  the 
man  turned  away  in  dudgeon,  that  he  was  only  a 

bail. 

'A  what!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'A  bail,'  replied  Perker. 

'A  bail!' 

'Yes,  my  dear  sir— half  a  dozen  of  'em  here.     Bail 


216  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

you  to  any  amount,  and  only  charge  half-a-crown. 
Curious  trade,  isn't  it?'  said  Perker,  regaling  himself 
with  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

'Whatl  Am  I  to  understand  that  these  men  earn 
a  livelihood  by  waiting  about  here,  to  perjure  them- 
selves before  the  judges  of  the  land,  at  the  rate  of 
half-a-crown  a  crime !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite 
aghast  at  the  disclosure. 

'Why,  I  don't  exactly  know  about  perjury,  my  dear 
sir,'  replied  the  little  gentleman.  'Harsh  word,  my 
dear  sir,  very  harsh  word  indeed.  It 's  a  legal  fiction, 
my  dear  sir,  nothing  more.'  Saying  which,  the  at- 
torney shrugged  his  shoulders,  smiled,  and  took  a 
second  pinch  of  snuff,  and  led  the  way  into  the  office 
of  the  judge's  clerk. 

This  was  a  room  of  specially  dirty  appearance,  with 
a  very  low  ceiling  and  old  panelled  walls ;  and  so  badly 
lighted,  that  although  it  was  broad  day  outside,  great 
tallow  candles  were  burning  on  the  desks.  At  one 
end,  was  a  door  leading  to  the  judge's  private  apart- 
ment, round  which  were  congregated  a  crowd  of  at- 
torneys and  managing  clerks,  who  were  called  in,  in 
the  order  in  which  their  respective  appointments  stood 
upon  the  file.  Every  time  this  door  was  opened  to 
let  a  party  out,  the  next  party  made  a  violent  rush 
to  get  in;  and,  as  in  addition  to  the  numerous  dia- 
logues which  passed  between  the  gentlemen  who  were 
waiting  to  see  the  judge,  a  variety  of  personal  squab- 
bles ensued  between  the  greater  part  of  those  who 
had  seen  him,  there  was  as  much  noise  as  could  well 
be  raised  in  an  apartment  of  such  confined  dimensions. 

Nor  were  the  conversations  of  these  gentlemen  the 
only  sounds  that  broke  upon  the  ear.  Standing  on  a 
box  behind  a  wooden  bar  at  another  end  of  the  room, 
was  a  clerk  in  spectacles,  who  was  'taking  the  affi- 
davits': large  batches  of  which  were,  from  time  to 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  217 

time,  carried  into  the  private  room  by  another  clerk 
for  the  judge's  signature.  There  were  a  large  num- 
ber of  attorneys'  clerks  to  be  sworn,  and  it  being  a 
moral  impossibility  to  swear  them  all  at  once,  the 
struggles  of  these  gentlemen  to  reach  the  clerk  in 
spectacles,  were  like  those  of  a  crowd  to  get  in  at 
the  pit  door  of  a  theatre  when  Gracious  Majesty 
honours  it  with  its  presence.  Another  functionary, 
from  time  to  time,  exercised  his  lungs  in  calling  over 
the  names  of  those  who  had  been  sworn,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  restoring  to  them  their  affidavits  after  they 
had  been  signed  by  the  judge:  which  gave  rise  to  a 
few  more  scuffles;  and  all  these  things  going  on  at 
the  same  time,  occasioned  as  much  bustle  as  the  most 
active  and  excitable  person  could  desire  to  behold. 
There  were  yet  another  class  of  persons — those  who 
were  waiting  to  attend  summonses  their  employers 
had  taken  out,  which  it  was  optional  to  the  attorney 
on  the  opposite  side  to  attend  or  not — and  whose  busi- 
ness it  was,  from  time  to  time,  to  cry  out  the  opposite 
attorney's  name;  to  make  certain  that  he  was  not  in 
attendance  without  their  knowledge. 

For  example.  Leaning  against  the  wall,  close  be- 
side the  seat  Mr.  Pickwick  had  taken,  was  an  office- 
lad  of  fourteen,  with  a  tenor  voice;  near  him,  a  com- 
mon-law clerk  with  a  bass  one. 

A  clerk  hurried  in  with  a  bundle  of  papers,  and 
stared  about  him. 

'Sniggle  and  Blink,'  cried  the  tenor. 

'Porkin  and  Snob,'  growled  the  bass. 

'Stumpy  and  Deacon,'  said  the  new  comer. 

Nobody  answered;  the  next  man  who  came  in,  was 
hailed  by  the  whole  three;  and  he  in  his  turn  shouted 
for  another  firm;  and  then  somebody  else  roared  in 
a  loud  voice  for  another;  and  so  forth. 

All  this  time,  the  man  in  the  spectacles  was  hard 


218  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

at  work,  swearing  the  clerks:  the  oath  being  invari- 
ably administered,  without  any  effort  at  punctuation, 
and  usually  in  the  following  terms : — 

'Take  the  book  in  your  right  hand  this  is  your  name 
and  handwriting  you  swear  that  the  contents  of  this 
your  affidavit  are  true  so  help  you  God  a  shilling  you 
must  get  change  I  haven't  got  it.' 

'Well,  Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  suppose  they 
are  getting  the  habeas  corpus  ready.' 

'Yes,'  said  Sam,  'and  I  vish  they  'd  bring  out  the 
have-his-carcase.  It 's  wery  unpleasant  keepin'  us 
vaitin'  here.  I  'd  ha'  got  half  a  dozen  have-his-car- 
cases  ready,  pack'd  up  and  all,  by  this  time.' 

What  sort  of  cumbrous  and  unmanageable  ma- 
chine, Sam  Weller  imagined  a  habeas  corpus  to  be, 
does  not  appear;  for  Perker  at  that  moment,  walked 
up,  and  took  Mr.  Pickwick  away. 

The  usual  forms  having  been  gone  through,  the 
body  of  Samuel  Pickwick  was  soon  afterwards  con- 
fided to  the  custody  of  the  tipstaff,  to  be  by  him  taken 
to  the  Warden  of  the  Fleet  Prison,  and  there  detained 
until  the  amount  of  the  damages  and  costs  in  the 
action  of  Bardell  against  Pickwick  was  fully  paid 
and  satisfied. 

'And  that,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing,  'will  be  a 
very  long  time.  Sam,  call  another  hackney-coach. 
Perker,  my  dear  friend,  good-bye.' 

'I  shall  go  with  you,  and  see  you  safe  there,'  said 
Perker. 

'Indeed,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  would  rather  go 
without  any  other  attendant  than  Sam.  As  soon  as 
I  get  settled,  I  will  write  and  let  you  know,  and  I 
shall  expect  you  immediately.  Until  then,  good- 
bye/ 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  said  this,  he  got  into  the  coach 
which  had  by  this  time  arrived:  followed  by  the  tip- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  219 

staff.  Sam  having  stationed  himself  on  the  box,  it 
rolled  away. 

'A  most  extraordinary  man  that!'  said  Perker,  as 
he  stopped  to  pull  on  his  gloves. 

'What  a  bankrupt  he  'd  make,  sir,'  observed  Mr. 
Lowten,  who  was  standing  near.  'How  he  would 
bother  the  commissioners !  He  'd  set  'em  at  defiance 
if  they  talked  of  committing  him,  sir.' 

The  attorney  did  not  appear  very  much  delighted 
with  his  clerk's  professional  estimate  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's character,  for  he  walked  away  without  deign- 
ing any  reply. 

The  hackney-coach  jolted  along  Fleet  Street,  as 
hackney-coaches  usually  do.  The  horses  'went  bet- 
ter,' the  driver  said,  when  they  had  anything  before 
them  (they  must  have  gone  at  a  most  extraordinary 
pace  when  there  was  nothing) ,  and  so  the  vehicle  kept 
behind  a  cart;  when  the  cart  stopped,  it  stopped;  and 
when  the  cart  went  on  again,  it  did  the  same.  Mr. 
Pickwick  sat  opposite  the  tipstaff;  and  the  tipstaff 
sat  with  his  hat  between  his  knees,  whistling  a  tune, 
and  looking  out  of  the  coach  window. 

Time  performs  wonders.  By  the  powerful  old  gen- 
tleman's aid,  even  a  hackney-coach  gets  over  half  a 
mile  of  ground.  They  stopped  at  length,  and  M>- 
Pickwick  alighted  at  the  gate  of  the  Fleet. 

The  tipstaff,  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  see  that 
his  charge  was  following  close  at  his  heels,  preceded 
Mr.  Pickwick  into  the  prison;  turning  to  the  left, 
after  they  had  entered,  they  passed  through  an  open 
door  into  a  lobby,  from  which  a  heavy  gate :  opposite 
to  that  by  which  they  had  entered,  and  which  was 
guarded  by  a  stout  turnkey  with  the  key  in  his  hand : 
led  at  once  into  the  interior  of  the  prison. 

Here  they  stopped,  while  the  tipstaff  delivered  his 
papers ;  and  here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  apprised  that  ht 


220  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

would  remain,  until  he  had  undergone  the  ceremony 
known  to  the  initiated  as  'sitting  for  your  portrait.' 

'Sitting  for  my  portrait!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Having  your  likeness  taken,  sir,'  replied  the  stout 
turnkey.  'We  're  capital  hands  at  likenesses  here. 
Take  'em  in  no  time,  and  always  exact.  Walk  in, 
sir,  and  make  yourself  at  home.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  complied  with  the  invitation,  and  sat 
himself  down:  when  Mr.  Weller,  who  stationed  him- 
self at  the  back  of  the  chair,  whispered  that  the  sitting 
was  merely  another  term  for  undergoing  an  inspection 
by  the  different  turnkeys,  in  order  that  they  might 
know  prisoners  from  visitors. 

'Well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'then  I  wish  the 
artists  would  come.  This  is  rather  a  public  place.' 

'They  von't  be  long,  sir,  I  des-say,'  replied  Sam. 
'There  's  a  Dutch  clock,  sir.' 

'So  I  see,'  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'And  a  bird-cage,  sir,'  says  Sam.  'Veels  vithin 
veels,  a  prison  in  a  prison.  Ain't  it,  sir  ?' 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  this  philosophical  remark, 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  aware  that  his  sitting  had  com- 
menced. The  stout  turnkey  having  been  relieved 
from  the  lock,  sat  down,  and  looked  at  him  carelessly, 
from  time  to  time,  while  a  long  thin  man  who  had 
relieved  him,  thrust  his  hands  beneath  his  coat-tails, 
and  planting  himself  opposite,  took  a  good  long  view 
of  him.  A  third  rather  surly-looking  gentleman: 
who  had  apparently  been  disturbed  at  his  tea,  for  he 
was  disposing  of  the  last  remnant  of  a  crust  and  but- 
ter when  he  came  in:  stationed  himself  close  to  Mr. 
Pickwick:  and,  resting  his  hands  on  his  hips,  inspected 
him  narrowly;  while  two  others  mixed  with  the  group, 
and  studied  his  features  with  most  intent  and  thought- 
ful faces.  Mr.  Pickwick  winced  a  good  deal  under 
the  operation,  and  appeared  to  sit  very  uneasily  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  221 

his  chair ;  but  he  made  no  remark  to  anybody  while  it 
was  being  performed,  not  even  to  Sam,  who  reclined 
upon  the  back  of  a  chair,  reflecting,  partly  on  the 
situation  of  his  master,  and  partly  on  the  great  satis- 
faction it  would  have  afforded  him  to  make  a  fierce 
assault  upon  all  the  turnkeys  there  assembled,  one 
after  the  other,  if  it  were  lawful  and  peaceable  so 
to  do. 

At  length  the  likeness  was  completed,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  informed,  that  he  might  now  proceed 
into  the  prison. 

'Where  am  I  to  sleep  to-night?'  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Why  I  don't  rightly  know  about  to-night,'  replied 
the  stout  turnkey.  'You  '11  be  chummed  on  somebody 
to-morrow,  and  then  you  '11  be  all  snug  and  comforta- 
ble. The  first  night 's  generally  rather  unsettled,  but 
you  '11  be  set  all  squares  to-morrow.' 

After  some  discussion,  it  was  discovered  that  one 
of  the  turnkeys  had  a  bed  to  let,  which  Mr.  Pickwick 
could  have  for  that  night.  He  gladly  agreed  to 
hire  it. 

'If  you  '11  come  with  me,  I  '11  show  it  you  at  once/ 
said  the  man.  'It  ain't  a  large  'un;  but  it 's  an  out- 
and-outer  to  sleep  in.  This  way,  sir.' 

They  passed  through  the  inner  gate,  and  descended 
a  short  flight  of  steps.  The  key  was  turned  after 
them;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  found  himself,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  within  the  walls  of  a  debtors'  prison, 


222  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  XLI 

WHAT  BEFELL  MR.  PICKWICK  WHEN  HE  GOT  INTO  THE 
FLEET;  WHAT  PRISONERS  HS  SAW  THERE;  AND 
HOW  HE  PASSED  THE  NIGHT 

MR.  TOM  ROKER,  the  gentleman  who  had  accom- 
panied Mr.  Pickwick  into  the  prison,  turned  sharp 
round  to  the  right  when  he  got  to  the  bottom  of  the 
little  flight  of  steps,  and  led  the  way,  through  an  iron 
gate  which  stood  open,  and  up  another  short  flight  of 
steps,  into  a  long  narrow  gallery,  dirty  and  low,  paved 
with  stone,  and  very  dimly  lighted  by  a  window  at 
each  remote  end. 

'This,'  said  the  gentleman,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  and  looking  carelessly  over  his  shoulder 
to  Mr.  Pickwick,  'this  here  is  the  hall  flight.' 

'Oh/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  down  a  dark 
and  filthy  staircase,  which  appeared  to  lead  to  a  range 
of  damp  and  gloomy  stone  vaults,  beneath  the  ground, 
'and  those,  I  suppose,  are  the  little  cellars  where  the 
prisoners  keep  their  small  quantities  of  coals.  .  Un- 
pleasant places  to  have  to  go  down  to;  but  very  con- 
venient, I  dare  say.' 

'Yes,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  was  convenient,' 
replied  the  gentleman,  'seeing  that  a  few  people  live 
there,  pretty  snug.  That 's  the  Fair,  that  is.' 

'My  friend,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'you  don't  really 
mean  to  say  that  human  beings  live  down  in  those 
wretched  dungeons?' 

'Don't  I?'  replied  Mr.  Roker,  with  indignant  as- 
tonishment; 'why  shouldn't  I?' 

'Live!     Live  down  there!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Live  down  there!  Yes,  and  die  down  there,  too, 
wery  often!'  replied  Mr.  Roker;  'and  what  of  that? 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Who's  got  to  say  anything  agin'  it?  Live  down 
there!  Yes,  and  a  wery  good  place  it  is  to  live  in. 
ain't  it?' 

As  Roker  turned  somewhat  iiercely  upon  Mr.  Pick- 
wick in  saying  this,  and  moreover  muttered  in  an 
excited  fashion  certain  unpleasant  invocations  con- 
cerning his  own  eyes,  limbs,  and  circulating  fluids, 
the  latter  gentleman  deemed  it  advisable  to  pursue 
the  discourse  no  further.  Mr.  Roker  then  proceeded 
to  mount  another  staircase,  as  dirty  as  that  which  led 
to  the  place  which  had  just  been  the  subject  of  dis- 
cussion, in  which  ascent  he  was  closely  followed  by 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam. 

'There,'  said  Mr.  Roker,  pausing  for  breath  when 
they  reached  another  gallery  of  the  same  dimensions 
as  the  one  below,  'this  is  the  coffee-room  flight;  the 
one  above  's  the  third,  and  the  one  above  that 's  the 
top ;  and  the  room  where  you  're  a  going  to  sleep  to- 
night is  the  warden's  room,  and  it 's  this  way — come 
on.'  Having  said  all  this,  in  a  breath,  Mr.  Roker 
mounted  another  flight  of  stairs,  with  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Sam  Weller  following  at  his  heels. 

These  staircases  received  light  from  sundry  win- 
dows placed  at  some  little  distance  above  the  floor, 
and  looking  into  a  gravelled  area  bounded  by  a  high 
brick  wall,  with  iron  clievaux-de-frise  at  the  top. 
This  area,  it  appeared  from  Mr.  Roker's  statement, 
was  the  racket-ground;  and  it  further  appeared,  on 
the  testimony  of  the  same  gentleman,  that  there  was 
a  smaller  area  in  that  portion  of  the  prison  which 
was  nearest  Farringdon  Street,  denominated  and 
called  'the  Painted  Ground,'  from  the  fact  of  its  walls 
having  once  displayed  the  semblance  of  various  men- 
of-war  in  full  sail,  and  other  artistical  effects  achieved 
in  bygone  times  by  some  imprisoned  draughtsman  in 
his  leisure  hours. 


224  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Having  communicated  this  piece  of  information, 
apparently  more  for  the  purpose  of  discharging  his 
bosom  of  an  important  fact,  than  with  any  specific 
view  of  enlightening  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  guide,  having 
at  length  reached  another  gallery,  led  the  way  into  a 
small  passage  at  the  extreme  end :  opened  a  door :  and 
disclosed  an  apartment  of  an  appearance  by  no  means 
inviting,  containing  eight  or  nine  iron  bedsteads. 

'There/  said  Mr.  Roker,  holding  the  door  open, 
and  looking  triumphantly  round  at  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'there's  a  room!' 

Mr.  Pickwick's  face,  however,  betokened  such  a 
very  trifling  portion  of  satisfaction  at  the  appearance 
of  his  lodging,  that  Mr.  Roker  looked  for  a  reci- 
procity of  feeling  into  the  countenance  of  Samuel 
Weller,  who,  until  now,  had  observed  a  dignified  si- 
lence. 

'There  's  a  room,  young  man,'  observed  Mr.  Roker. 

'I  see  it,'  replied  Sam,  with  a  placid  nod  of  the  head. 

'You  wouldn't  think  to  find  such  a  room  as  this  in 
the  Farringdon  Hotel,  would  you?'  said  Mr.  Roker, 
with  a  complacent  smile. 

To  this  Mr.  Weller  replied  with  an  easy  and  un- 
studied closing  of  one  eye ;  which  might  be  considered 
to  mean,  either  that  he  would  have  thought  it,  or  that 
he  would  not  have  thought  it,  or  that  he  had  never 
thought  anything  at  all  about  it:  as  the  observer's 
imagination  suggested.  Having  executed  this  feat, 
and  re-opened  his  eye,  Mr.  Weller  proceeded  to  in- 
quire which  was  the  individual  bedstead  that  Mr. 
Roker  had  so  flatteringly  described  as  an  out-and- 
outer  to  sleep  in. 

'That 's  it,'  replied  Mr.  Roker,  pointing  to  a  very 
rusty  one  in  a  corner.  'It  would  make  any  one  go 
to  sleep,  that  bedstead  would,  whether  they  wanted 
to  or  not.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  225 

'I  should  think,'  said  Sam,  eyeing  the  piece  of  fur- 
niture in  question  with  a  look  of  excessive  disgust, 
'I  should  think  poppies  was  nothing  to  it.' 

^Nothing  at  all,'  said  Mr.  Roker. 

'And  I  s'pose,'  said  Sam,  with  a  sidelong  glance  at 
lis  master,  as  if  to  see  whether  there  were  any  symp- 
toms of  his  determination  being  shaken  by  what 
passed,  'I  s'pose  the  other  gen'Fmen  as  sleeps  here, 
are  gen'l'men.' 

'Nothing  but  it,'  said  Mr.  Roker.  'One  of  'em 
takes  his  twelve  pints  of  ale  a  day,  and  never  leaves 
off  smoking  even  at  his  meals.' 

'He  must  be  a  first-rater,'  said  Sam. 

'A  1,'  replied  Mr.  Roker. 

Nothing  daunted,  even  by  this  intelligence,  Mr. 
Pickwick  smilingly  announced  his  determination  to 
test  the  powers  of  the  narcotic  bedstead  for  that  night; 
and  Mr.  Roker,  after  informing  him  that  he  could 
retire  to  rest  at  whatever  hour  he  thought  proper, 
without  any  further  notice  or  formality,  walked  off, 
leaving  him  standing  with  Sam  in  the  gallery. 

It  was  getting  dark;  that  is  to  say,  a  few  gas  jets 
were  kindled  in  this  place,  which  was  never  light,  by 
way  of  compliment  to  the  evening,  which  had  set  in 
outside.  As  it  was  rather  warm,  some  of  the  tenants 
of  the  numerous  little  rooms  which  opened  into  the 
gallery  on  either  hand,  had  set  their  doors  ajar.  Mr. 
Pickwick  peeped  into  them  as  he  passed  along,  with 
great  curiosity  and  interest.  Here  four  or  five  great 
hulking  fellows,  just  visible  through  a  cloud  of  to- 
bacco smoke,  were  engaged  in  noisy  and  riotous  con- 
versation over  half -emptied  pots  of  beer,  or  playing 
at  all-fours  with  a  very  greasy  pack  of  cards.  In  the 
adjoining  room,  some  solitary  tenant  might  be  seen, 
poring,  by  the  light  of  a  feeble  tallow  candle,  over 
a  bundle  of  soiled  and  tattered  papers,  yellow  with 


226  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

dust  and  dropping  to  pieces  from  age:  writing,  for 
the  hundredth  time,  some  lengthened  statement  of  his 
grievances  for  the  perusal  of  some  great  man  whose 
eyes  it  would  never  reach,  or  whose  heart  it  would 
never  touch.  In  a  third,  a  man,  with  his  wife  and  a 
whole  crowd  of  children,  might  be  seen  making  up  a 
scanty  bed  on  the  ground,  or  upon  a  few  chairs,  for 
the  younger  ones  to  pass  the  night  in.  And  in  a 
fourth,  and  a  fifth,  and  a  sixth,  and  a  seventh,  the 
noise,  and  the  beer  and  the  tobacco  smoke,  and  the 
cards,  all  came  over  again  in  greater  force  than  be- 
fore. 

In  the  galleries  themselves,  and  more  especially  on 
the  staircases,  there  lingered  a  great  number  of  peo- 
ple, who  came  there,  some  because  their  rooms  were 
empty  and  lonesome,  others  because  their  rooms  were 
full  and  hot ;  the  greater  part  because  they  were  rest- 
less and  uncomfortable,  and  not  possessed  of  the 
secret  of  exactly  knowing  what  to  do  with  themselves. 
There  were  many  classes  of  people  here,  from  the 
labouring  man  in  his  fustian  jacket,  to  the  broken- 
down  spendthrift  in  his  shawl  dressing-gown,  most 
appropriately  out  at  elbows;  but  there  was  the  same 
air  about  them  all — a  listless  gaol-bird  careless  swag- 
ger, a  vagabondish  who  's-afraid  sort  of  bearing, 
which  is  wholly  indescribable  in  words,  but  which  any 
man  can  understand  in  one  moment  if  he  wish,  by 
setting  foot  in  the  nearest  debtors'  prison,  and  look- 
ing at  the  very  first  group  of  people  he  sees  there, 
with  the  same  interest  as  Mr.  Pickwick  did. 

'It  strikes  me,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  leaning 
over  the  iron  rail  at  the  stairhead,  'it  strikes  me,  Sam, 
that  imprisonment  for  debt  is  scarcely  any  punish- 
ment at  all.' 

'Think  not,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'You  see  how  these  fellows  drink,  and  smoke,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  227 

roar,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     'It 's  quite  impossible 
that  they  can  mind  it  much.' 

'Ah,  that 's  just  the  wery  thing,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam, 
'they  don't  mind  it;  it 's  a  regular  holiday  to  them— 
all  porter  and  skittles.  It 's  the  t'other  vuns  as  gets 
done  over,  vith  this  sort  o'  thing:  them  down-hearted 
fellers  as  can't  svig  avay  at  the  beer,  nor  play  at 
skittles  neither ;  them  as  vould  pay  if  they  could,  and 
gets  low  by  being  boxed  up.  I  '11  tell  you  wot  it  is, 
sir;  them  as  is  alvays  a  idlin'  in  public-houses  it  don't 
damage  at  all,  and  them  as  is  alvays  a  workin'  wen 
they  can,  it  damages  too  much.  "It 's  unekal,"  as 
my  father  used  to  say  wen  his  grog  worn't  made  half- 
and-half:  "It 's  unekal,  and  that 's  the  fault  on  it." 

'I  think  you  're  right,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
after  a  few  moments'  reflection,  'quite  right.' 

'P'raps,  now  and  then,  there  's  some  honest  people 
as  likes  it,'  observed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  ruminative  tone; 
'but  I  never  heerd  o'  one  as  I  can  call  to  mind,  'cept 
the  little  dirty-faced  man  in  the  brown  coat ;  and  that 
was  force  of  habit.' 

'And  who  was  he?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wy,  that 's  just  the  wery  point  as  nobody  never 
know'd,'  replied  Sam. 

'But  what  did  he  do?' 

'Wy,  he  did  wot  many  men  as  has  been  much  better 
know'd  has  done  in  their  time,  sir,'  replied  Sam,  'he 
run  a  match  agin'  the  constable,  and  vun  it.' 

'In  other  words,  I  suppose/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'he 
got  into  debt.' 

'Just  that,  sir,'  replied  Sam,  'and  in  course  o'  time 
he  come  here  in  consekens.  It  warn't  much — execu- 
tion for  nine  pound  nothin',  multiplied  by  five  for 
costs;  but  hows'ever  here  he  stopped  for  seventeen 
year.  If  he  got  any  wrinkles  in  his  face,  they  was 
stopped  up  vith  the  dirt,  for  both  the  dirty  face  and 


228  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  brown  coat  wos  just  the  same  at  the  end  o'  that 
time  as  they  wos  at  the  beginnin'.  He  wos  a  wery 
peaceful  inofFendin'  little  creetur,  and  was  alvays  a 
bustlin'  about  for  somebody,  or  playin'  rackets  and 
never  vinnin';  till  at  last  the  turnkeys  they  got  quite 
fond  on  him,  and  he  wos  in  the  lodge  ev'ry  night,  a 
chattering  vith  'em,  and  tellin'  stories,  and  all  that 
'ere.  Vun  night  he  wos  in  there  as  usual,  along  vith 
a  wery  old  friend  of  his,  as  wos  on  the  lock,  ven  he 
says  all  of  a  sudden,  "I  ain't  seen  the  market  outside, 
Bill,"  he  says  (Fleet  Market  wos  there  at  that  time) 
— "I  ain't  seen  the  market  outside,  Bill,"  he  says,  "for 
seventeen  year."  "I  know  you  ain't,"  says  the  turn- 
key, smoking  his  pipe.  "I  should  like  to  see  it  for 
a  minit,  Bill,"  he  says.  "Wery  probable,"  says  the 
turnkey,  smoking  his  pipe  very  fierce,  and  making 
believe  he  warn't  up  to  wot  the  little  man  wanted. 
"Bill,"  says  the  little  man,  more  abrupt  than  afore, 
"I  Ve  got  the  fancy  in  my  head.  Let  me  see  the 
public  streets  once  more  afore  I  die;  and  if  I  ain't 
struck  with  apoplexy,  I  '11  be  back  in  five  minits  by 
the  clock."  "And  wot  'ud  become  o'  me  if  you  wos 
struck  with  apoplexy?"  said  the  turnkey.  "Wy," 
says  the  little  creetur,  "whoever  found  me,  'ud  bring 
me  home,  for  I  Ve  got  my  card  in  my  pocket,  Bill," 
he  says,  "No.  20,  Coffee-room  Flight":  and  that  wos 
true,  sure  enough,  for  wen  he  wanted  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  any  new  comer,  he  used  to  pull  out 
a  little  limp  card  vith  them  words  on  it  and  nothin' 
else:  in  consideration  of  vich,  he  wos  always  called 
Number  Twenty.  The  turnkey  takes  a  fixed  look 
at  him,  and  at  last  he  says  in  a  solemn  manner, 
"Tventy,"  he  says,  "I'll  trust  you;  you  won't  get 
your  old  friend  into  trouble."  "No,  my  boy;  I  hope 
I  Ve  somethin'  better  behind  here,"  says  the  little 
man;  and  as  he  said  it  he  hit  his  little  veskit  wery 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  229 

hard,  and  then  a  tear  started  out  o'  each  eye,  which 
wos  wery  extraordinary,  for  it  wos  supposed  as  water 
never  touched  his  face.  He  shook  the  turnkey  by  the 
hand;  out  he  vent— 

'And  never  came  back  again,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wrong  for  vunce,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'for 
back  he  come,  two  minits  afore  the  time,  a  bilin'  with 
rage :  sayin'  how  he  'd  been  nearly  run  over  by  a 
hackney-coach :  that  he  warn't  used  to  it :  and  he  was 
blowed  if  he  wouldn't  write  to  the  Lord  Mayor. 
They  got  him  pacified  at  last ;  and  for  five  years  arter 
that,  he  never  even  so  much  as  peeped  out  o'  the  lodge- 
gate.' 

'At  the  expiration  of  that  time  he  died,  I  suppose,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,  he  didn't,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'He  got  a  curi- 
osity to  go  and  taste  the  beer  at  a  new  public-house 
over  the  way,  and  it  wos  such  a  wery  nice  parlour, 
that  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  go  there  every  night, 
wich  he  did  for  a  long  time,  always  comin'  back 
reg'lar  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afore  the  gate  shut, 
wich  wos  all  wery  snug  and  comfortable.  At  last 
he  began  to  get  so  precious  jolly,  that  he  used  to  for- 
get how  the  time  vent,  or  care  nothin'  at  all  about  it, 
and  he  vent  on  gettin'  later  and  later,  till  vun  night 
his  old  friend  wos  just  a  shuttin'  the  gate — had  turned 
the  key  in  fact — wen  he  come  up.  "Hold  hard,  Bill," 
he  says.  "Wot,  ain't  you  come  home  yet,  Tventy?^ 
says  the  turnkey,  "I  thought  you  was  in,  long  ago." 
"No,  I  wasn't,"  says  the  little  man,  vith  a  smile. 
"Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you  wot  it  is,  my  friend,"  says 
the  turnkey,  openin'  the  gate  wery  slow  and  sulky, 
"it 's  my  'pinion  as  you  've  got  into  bad  company  o' 
late,  which  I  'm  wery  sorry  to  see.  Now,  I  don^t  wish 
to  do  nothing  harsh,"  he  says,  "but  if  you  can't  con- 
fine yourself  to  steady  circles,  and  find  your  vay  back 


230  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

at  reg'lar  hours,  as  sure  as  you  're  a  standin'  there,  I  '11 
shut  you  out  altogether!"  The  little  man  was  seized 
vith  a  wiolent  fit  o'  tremblin,'  and  never  vent  outside 
the  prison  walls  artervards!' 

As  Sam  concluded,  Mr.  Pickwick  slowly  retraced 
his  steps  downstairs.  After  a  few  thoughtful  turns 
in  the  Painted  Ground,  which,  as  it  was  now  dark, 
was  nearly  deserted,  he  intimated  to  Mr.  Weller  that 
he  thought  it  high  time  for  him  to  withdraw  for  the 
night;  requesting  him  to  seek  a  bed  in  some  adjacent 
public-house,  and  return  early  in  the  morning,  to  make 
arrangements  for  the  removal  of  his  master's  ward- 
robe from  the  George  and  Vulture.  This  request 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  prepared  to  obey,  with  as  good 
a  grace  as  he  could  assume,  but  with  a  very  consider- 
able show  of  reluctance  nevertheless.  He  even  went 
so  far  as  to  essay  sundry  ineffectual  hints  regarding 
the  expediency  of  stretching  himself  on  the  gravel 
for  that  night ;  but  finding  Mr.  Pickwick  obstinately 
deaf  to  any  such  suggestions,  finally  withdrew. 

There  is  no  disguising  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
felt  very  low-spirited  and  uncomfortable :  not  for  lack 
of  society,  for  the  prison  was  very  full,  and  a  bottle 
of  wine  would  at  once  have  purchased  the  utmost 
good-fellowship  of  a  few  choice  spirits,  without  any 
more  formal  ceremony  of  introduction;  but  he  was 
alone  in  the  coarse  vulgar  crowd,  and  felt  the  depres- 
sion of  spirit  and  sinking  of  heart,  naturally  conse- 
quent on  the  reflection  that  he  was  cooped  and  caged 
up,  without  a  prospect  of  liberation.  As  to  the  idea 
of  releasing  himself  by  ministering  to  the  sharpness 
of  Dodson  and  Fogg,  it  never  for  an  instant  entered 
his  thoughts. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  he  turned  again  into  the 
coffee-room  gallery,  and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  231 

The  place  was  intolerably  dirty,  and  the  smell  of  to- 
bacco-smoke perfectly  suffocating.  There  was  a 
perpetual  slamming  and  banging  of  doors  as  the  peo- 
ple went  in  and  out;  and  the  noise  of  their  voices  and 
footsteps  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  passages 
constantly.  A  young  woman,  with  a  child  in  her 
arms,  who  seemed  scarcely  able  to  crawl,  from  emacia- 
tion and  misery,  was  walking  up  and  down  the  pas- 
sage in  conversation  with  her  husband,  who  had  no 
other  place  to  see  her  in.  As  they  passed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, he  could  hear  the  female  sob ;  and  once  she  burst 
into  such  a  passion  of  grief,  that  she  was  compelled  to 
lean  against  the  wall  for  support,  while  the  man  took 
the  child  in  his  arms,  and  tried  to  soothe  her. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  heart  was  really  to  full  to  bear  it, 
and  he  went  upstairs  to  bed. 

Now,  although  the  warden's  room  was  a  very  un- 
comfortable one  (being,  in  every  point  of  decoration 
and  convenience,  several  hundred  degrees  inferior  to 
the  common  infirmary  of  a  county  gaol),  it  had  at 
present  the  merit  of  being  wholly  deserted  save  by 
Mr.  Pickwick  himself.  So,  he  sat  down  at  the  foot 
of  his  little  iron  bedstead,  and  began  to  wonder  how 
much  a  year  the  warden  made  out  of  the  dirty  room. 
Having  satisfied  himself,  by  mathematical  calcula- 
tion, that  the  apartment  was  about  equal  in  annual 
value  to  the  freehold  of  a  small  street  in  the  suburbs 
of  London,  he  took  to  wondering  what  possible  temp- 
tation could  have  induced  a  dingy-looking  fly  that 
was  crawling  over  his  pantaloons,  to  come  into  a  close 
prison,  when  he  had  the  choice  of  so  many  airy  situa- 
tions— a  course  of  meditation  which  led  him  to  the 
irresistible  conclusion  that  the  insect  was  mad.  After 
settling  this  point,  he  began  to  be  conscious  that  he 
was  getting  sleepy;  whereupon  he  took  his  nightcap 


232  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

out  of  the  pocket  in  which  he  had  had  the  precaution 
to  stow  it  in  the  morning,  and,  leisurely  undressing 
himself,  got  into  bed,  and  fell  asleep. 

'Bravo!  Heel  over  toe — cut  and  shuffle — pay 
away  at  it,  Zephyr !  I  'm  smothered  if  the  Opera 
House  isn't  your  proper  hemisphere.  Keep  it  up! 
Hooray!'  These  expressions,  delivered  in  a  most 
boisterous  tone,  and  accompanied  with  loud  peals  of 
laughter,  roused  Mr.  Pickwick  from  one  of  those 
sound  slumbers  which,  lasting  in  reality  some  half- 
hour,  seem  to  the  sleeper  to  have  been  protracted  for 
three  weeks  or  a  month. 

The  voice  had  no  sooner  ceased  than  the  room  was 
shaken  with  such  violence  that  the  windows  rattled  in 
their  frames,  and  the  bedsteads  trembled  again.  Mr. 
Pickwick  started  up,  and  remained  for  some  minutes 
fixed  in  mute  astonishment  at  the  scene  before  him. 

On  the  floor  of  the  room,  a  man  in  a  broad-skirted 
green  coat,  with  corduroy  knee  smalls  and  grey  cotton 
stockings,  was  performing  the  most  popular  steps  of 
a  hornpipe,  with  a  slang  and  burlesque  caricature  of 
grace  and  lightness,  which,  combined  with  the  very 
appropriate  character  of  his  costume,  was  inexpres- 
sibly absurd.  Another  man,  evidently  very  drunk, 
who  had  probably  been  tumbled  into  bed  by  his  com- 
panions, was  sitting  up  between  the  sheets,  warbling 
as  much  as  he  could  recollect  of  a  comic  song,  with 
the  most  intensely  sentimental  feeling  and  expression ; 
while  a  third,  seated  on  one  of  the  bedsteads,  was 
applauding  both  performers  with  the  air  of  a  pro- 
found connoisseur,  and  encouraging  them  by  such 
ebullitions  as  had  already  aroused  Mr.  Pickwick  from 
his  sleep. 

This  last  man  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  a  class 
of  gentry  which  never  can  be  seen  in  full  perfection 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  233 

but  in  such  places ; — they  may  be  met  with,  in  an  im- 
perfect state,  occasionally  about  stable-yards  and 
public-houses ;  but  they  never  attain  their  full  bloom 
except  in  these  hot-beds,  which  would  almost  seem  to 
be  considerately  provided  by  the  Legislature  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  rearing  them. 

He  was  a  tall  fellow,  with  an  olive  complexion,  long 
dark  hair,  and  very  thick  bushy  whiskers  meeting  un- 
der his  chin.  He  wore  no  neckerchief,  as  he  had  been 
playing  rackets  all  day,  and  his  open  shirt  collar  dis- 
played their  full  luxuriance.  On  his  head  he  wore 
one  of  the  common  eighteenpenny  French  skull-caps, 
with  a  gaudy  tassel  dangling  therefrom,  very  happily 
in  keeping  with  a  common  fustian  coat.  His  legs: 
which,  being  long,  wrere  afflicted  with  weakness: 
graced  a  pair  of  Oxford-mixture  trousers,  made  to 
show  the  full  symmetry  of  those  limbs.  Being  some- 
what negligently  braced,  however,  and,  moreover,  but 
imperfectly  buttoned,  they  fell  in  a  series  of  not  the 
most  graceful  folds  over  a  pair  of  shoes  sufficiently 
down  at  heel  to  display  a  pair  of  very  soiled  white 
stockings.  There  was  a  rakish,  vagabond  smartness, 
and  a  kind  of  boastful  rascality,  about  the  whole  man, 
that  was  worth  a  mine  of  gold. 

This  figure  was  the  first  to  perceive  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  looking  on;  upon  which  he  winked  to  the 
Zephyr,  and  entreated  him,  with  mock  gravity,  not 
to  wake  the  gentleman. 

'Why,  bless  the  gentleman's  honest  heart  and  soul !' 
said  the  Zephyr,  turning  round  and  aifecting  the 
extremity  of  surprise;  'the  gentleman  is  awake. 
Hem,  Shakespeare!  How  do  you  do,  sir?  How  is 
Mary  and  Sarah,  sir?  and  the  dear  old  lady  at  home, 
sir?  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  put  my  compli- 
ments into  the  first  little  parcel  you  're  sending  that 


234  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

way,  sir,  and  say  that  I  would  have  sent  'em  before, 
only  I  was  afraid  they  might  be  broken  in  the  wag- 
gon, sir?' 

'Don't  overwhelm  the  gentleman  with  ordinary  ci- 
vilities when  you  see  he  's  anxious  to  have  something 
to  drink,'  said  the  gentleman  with  the  whiskers,  with 
a  jocose  air.  'Why  don't  you  ask  the  gentleman 
what  he'll  take?' 

'Dear  me,  I  quite  forgot,'  replied  the  other.  'What 
will  you  take,  sir?  Will  you  take  port  wine,  sir,  or 
sherry  wine,  sir?  I  can  recommend  the  ale,  sir;  or 
perhaps  you  'd  like  to  taste  the  porter,  sir  ?  Allow 
me  to  have  the  felicity  of  hanging  up  your  nightcap, 
sir.' 

With  this,  the  speaker  snatched  that  article  of  dress 
from  Mr.  Pickwick's  head,  and  fixed  it  in  a  twink- 
ling on  that  of  the  drunken  man,  who,  firmly  im- 
pressed with  the  belief  that  he  was  delighting  a 
numerous  assembly,  continued  to  hammer  away  at 
the  comic  song  in  the  most  melancholy  strains  im- 
aginable. 

Taking  a  man's  nightcap  from  his  brow  by  violent 
means,  and  adjusting  it  on  the  head  of  an  unknown 
gentleman  of  dirty  exterior,  however  ingenious  a 
witticism  in  itself,  is  unquestionably  one  of  those 
which  come  under  the  denomination  of  practical  jokes. 
Viewing  the  matter  precisely  in  this  light,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, without  the  slightest  intimation  of  his  purpose, 
sprang  vigorously  out  of  bed,  struck  the  Zephyr  so 
smart  a  blow  in  the  chest  as  to  deprive  him  of  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  commodity  whicli  sometimes 
bears  his  name,  and  then,  recapturing  his  nightcap, 
boldly  placed  himself  in  an  attitude  of  defence. 

'Now,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gasping  no  less  from 
excitement  than  from  the  expenditure  of  so  much 
energy,  'come  on — both  of  you — both  of  you !'  With 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  235 

this  liberal  invitation  the  worthy  gentleman  communi- 
cated a  revolving  motion  to  his  clenched  fists,  by  way 
of  appalling  his  antagonists  with  a  display  of  science. 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  very  unexpected 
gallantry,  or  it  might  have  been  the  complicated  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  got  himself  out  of  bed,  and  fallen 
all  in  a  mass  upon  the  hornpipe  man,  that  touched  his 
adversaries.  Touched  they  were ;  for,  instead  of  then 
and  there  making  an  attempt  to  commit  manslaughter, 
as  Mr.  Pickwick  implicitly  believed  they  would  have 
done,  they  paused,  stared  at  each  other  a  short  time, 
and  finally  laughed  outright. 

'Well;  you  're  a  trump,  and  I  like  you  all  the  better 
for  it,'  said  the  Zephyr.  'Now  jump  into  bed  again, 
or  you  '11  catch  the  rheumatics.  No  malice,  I  hope?' 
said  the  man,  extending  a  hand  the  size  of  the  yellow 
clump  of  fingers  which  sometimes  swings  over  a 
glover's  door. 

'Certainly  not,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  with  great  alac- 
rity ;  for,  now  that  the  excitement  was  over,  he  began 
to  *f  eel  rather  cool  about  the  legs. 

'Allow  me  the  honour,'  said  the  gentleman  with  the 
whiskers,  presenting  his  dexter  hand,  and  aspirating 

•  the  h. 

'With  much  pleasure,  sir/  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and 
having  executed  a  very  long  and  solemn  shake,  he 
got  into  bed  again. 

'My  name  is  Smangle,  sir,'  said  the  man  with  the 

whiskers. 

'Oh,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Mine  is  Mivins/  said  the  man  in  the  stockings.  ^ 

'I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  sir/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Hem/  coughed  Mr.  Smangle, 

'Did  you  speak,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,  I  did  not,  sir/  said  Mr.  Smangle. 

'I  thought  you  did,  sir/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


236  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

All  this  was  very  genteel  and  pleasant;  and,  to 
make  matters  still  more  comfortable,  Mr.  Smangle 
assured  Mr.  Pickwick  a  great  many  times  that  he 
entertained  a  very  high  respect  for  the  feelings  of  a 
gentleman;  which  sentiment,  indeed,  did  him  infinite 
credit,  as  he  could  be  in  no  wise  supposed  to  under- 
stand them. 

'Are  you  going  through  the  Court,  sir?'  inquired 
Mr.  Smangle. 

'Through  the  what?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Through  the  Court — Portugal  Street — the  Court 
for  the  Relief  of — you  know.' 

'Oh,  no/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     'No,  I  am  not.' 

'Going  out,  perhaps?'  suggested  Mivins. 

'I  fear  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  refuse  to 
pay  some  damages,  and  am  here  in  consequence.' 

'Ah,'  said  Mr.  Smangle,  'paper  has  been  my  ruin.' 

'A  stationer,  I  presume,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
innocently. 

'Stationer!  No,  no ;  confound  and  curse  me !  Not 
so  low  as  that.  No  trade.  When  I  say  paper,  I 
mean  bills.' 

'Oh,  you  use  the  word  in  that  sense.  I  see,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Damme!  A  gentleman  must  expect  reverses,' 
said  Smangle.  'What  of  that?  Here  am  I  in  the 
Fleet  Prison.  Well;  good.  What  then?  I 'm  none 
the  worse  for  that,  am  I?' 

'Not  a  bit,'  replied  Mr.  Mivins.  And  he  was  quite 
right;  for,  so  far  from  Mr.  Smangle  being  any  the 
worse  for  it,  he  was  something  the  better,  inasmuch 
as  to  qualify  himself  for  the  place,  he  had  attained 
gratuitous  possession  of  certain  articles  of  jewellery, 
which,  long  before  that,  had  found  their  way  to  the 
pawnbroker's. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  237 

'Well;  but  come,'  said  Mr.  Smangle;  'this  is  dry 
work.  Let 's  rinse  our  mouths  with  a  drop  of  burnt 
sherry ;  the  last  comer  shall  stand  it,  Mivins  shall  fetch 
it,  and  I  '11  help  to  drink  it.  That 's  a  fair  and  gentle- 
manlike division  of  labour,  anyhow.  Curse  me!' 

Unwilling  to  hazard  another  quarrel,  Mr.  Pickwick 
gladly  assented  to  the  proposition,  and  consigned  the 
money  to  Mr.  Mivins,  who,  as  it  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock,  lost  no  time  in  repairing  to  the  coffee-room 
on  his  errand. 

'I  say,'  whispered  Smangle,  the  moment  his  friend 
had  left  the  room;  'what  did  you  give  him?' 

'Half  a  sovereign,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'He  's  a  devilish  pleasant  gentlemanly  dog,'  said 
Mr.  Smangle; — 'infernal  pleasant.  I  don't  know 
anybody  more  so,  but — '  Here  Mr.  Smangle  stopped 
short,  and  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

'You  don't  think  there  is  any  probability  of  his  ap- 
propriating the  money  to  his  own  use?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Oh,  no!  Mind,  I  don't  say  that;  I  expressly  say 
that  he  's  a  devilish  gentlemanly  fellow,'  said  Mr. 
Smangle.  'But  I  think,  perhaps,  if  somebody  went 
down,  just  to  see  that  he  didn't  dip  his  beak  into  the 
jug  by  accident,  or  make  some  confounded  mistake  in 
losing  the  money  as  he  came  upstairs,  it  would  be  as 
well.  Here,  you  sir,  just  run  downstairs,  and  look 
after  that  gentleman,  will  you?' 

This  request  was  addressed  to  a  little  timid-looking 
nervous  man,  whose  appearance  bespoke  great  pov- 
erty, and  who  had  been  crouching  on  his  bedstead 
all  this  while,  apparently  stupefied  by  the  novelty  of 
his  situation. 

'You  know  where  the  coffee-room  is,'  said  Smangle; 
'just  run  down,  and  tell  that  gentleman  you  Ve  come 


238  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  help  him  up  with  the  jug.  Or — stop — I  '11  tell  you 
what — I  '11  tell  you  how  we  '11  do  him,'  said  Smangle, 
with  a  cunning  look. 

'How  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Send  down  word  that  he  's  to  spend  the  change  in 
cigars.  Capital  thought.  Run  and  tell  him  that; 
d'ye  hear?  They  shan't  be  wasted,'  continued  Mr. 
Smangle,  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick.  fl  'II  smoke  'em.' 

This  manoeuvring  was  so  exceedingly  ingenious, 
and,  withal,  performed  with  such  immovable  com- 
posure and  coolness,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  would  have 
had  no  wish  to  disturb  it,  even  if  he  had  had  the 
power.  In  a  short  time  Mr.  Mivins  returned,  bear- 
ing the  sherry,  which  Mr.  Smangle  dispensed  in  two 
little  cracked  mugs;  considerately  remarking,  with 
reference  to  himself,  that  a  gentleman  must  not  be 
particular  under  such  circumstances,  and  that,  for  his 
part,  he  was  not  too  proud  to  drink  out  of  the  jug. 
In  which,  to  show  his  sincerity,  he  forthwith  pledged 
the  company  in  a  draught  which  half  emptied  it. 

An  excellent  understanding  having  been  by  these 
means  promoted,  Mr.  Smangle  proceeded  to  entertain 
his  hearers  with  a  relation  of  divers  romantic  adven- 
tures in  which  he  had  been  from  time  to  time  engaged, 
involving  various  interesting  anecdotes  of  a  thorough- 
bred horse,  and  a  magnificent  Jewess,  both  of  sur- 
passing beauty,  and  much  coveted  by  the  nobility  and 
gentry  of  these  kingdoms. 

Long  before  these  elegant  extracts  from  the  biog- 
raphy of  a  gentleman  were  concluded,  Mr.  Mivins 
had  betaken  himself  to  bed,  and  had  set  in  snoring 
for  the  night:  leaving  the  timid  stranger  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  to  the  full  benefit  of  Mr.  Smangle's  expe- 
riences. 

Nor  were  the  two  last-named  gentlemen  as  much 
edified  as  they  might  have  been,  by  the  moving  pas- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  231) 

sages  narrated.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  in  a  state 
of  slumber  for  some  time,  when  he  had  a  faint  per- 
ception of  the  drunken  man  bursting  out  afresh  with 
the  comic  song,  and  receiving  from  Mr.  Smangle  a 
gentle  intimation,  through  the  medium  of  the  water 
jug,  that  his  audience  were  not  musically  disposed. 
Mr.  Pickwick  then  once  again  dropped  off  to  sleep, 
with  a  confused  consciousness  that  Mr.  Smangle  was 
still  engaged  in  relating  a  long  story,  the  chief  point 
of  which  appeared  to  be,  that,  on  some  occasion  par- 
ticularly stated  and  set  forth,  he  had  'done'  a  bill  and 
a  gentleman  at  the  same  time. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

ILLUSTRATIVE,  LIKE  THE  PRECEDING  ONE,  OF  THE 
OLD  PROVERB,  THAT  ADVERSITY  BRINGS  A  MAN 
ACQUAINTED  WITH  STRANGE  BED-FELLOWS.  LIKE- 
WISE CONTAINING  MR.  PICKWICK'S  EXTRAORDI- 
NARY AND  STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT  TO  MR, 
SAMUEL  WELLER 

WHEN  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  his  eyes  next  morning, 
the  first  object  upon  which  they  rested,  was  Samuel 
Weller,  seated  upon  a  small  black  portmanteau,  in- 
tently regarding,  apparently  in  a  condition  of  pro- 
found abstraction,  the  stately  figure  of  the  dashing 
Mr.  Smangle:  while  Mr.  Smangle  himself,  who  was 
already  partially  dressed,  was  seated  on  his  bedstead, 
occupied  in  the  desperately  hopeless  attempt  of  star- 
ing Mr.  Weller  out  of  countenance.  We  say  des- 
perately hopeless,  because  Sam,  with  a  comprehen- 
sive gaze  which  took  in  Mr.  Smangle's  cap,  feet,  head, 
face,  legs,  and  whiskers,  all  at  the  same  time,  con- 
tinued to  look  steadily  on,  with  every  demonstration 


240  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

of  lively  satisfaction,  but  with  no  more  regard  'to  Mr. 
Smangle's  personal  sentiments  on  the  subject  than 
he  would  have  displayed  had  he  been  inspecting  a 
wooden  statue,  or  a  straw-embowelled  Guy  Faux. 

'Well ;  will  you  know  me  again  ?'  said  Mr.  Smangle, 
with  a  frown. 

'I  'd  svear  to  you  anyveres,  sir/  replied  Sam,  cheer- 
fully. 

'Don't  be  impertinent  to  a  gentleman,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Smangle. 

'Not  on  no  account,'  replied  Sam.  'If  you  '11  tell 
me  wen  he  wakes,  I  '11  be  upon  the  wery  best  extra- 
super  behaviour !'  This  observation,  having  a  remote 
tendency  to  imply  that  Mr.  Smangle  was  no  gentle- 
man, kindled  his  ire. 

'Mivins!'  said  Mr.  Smangle,  with  a  passionate  air. 

'What 's  the  office?'  replied  that  gentleman  from 
.his  couch. 

'Who  the  devil  is  this  fellow?' 

*  'Gad,'  said  Mr.  Mivins,  looking  lazily  out  from 
under  the  bedclothes,  *I  ought  to  ask  you  that. 
Hasn't  he  any  business  here?' 

'No/  replied  Mr.  Smangle. 

'Then  knock  him  downstairs,  and  tell  him  not  to 
presume  to  get  up'till  I  come  and  kick  him/  rejoined 
Mr.  Mivins:  with  this  prompt  advice  that  excellent 
gentleman  again  betook  himself  to  slumber. 

The  conversation  exhibiting  these  unequivocal 
symptoms  of  verging  on  the  personal,  Mr.  Pickwick 
deemed  it  a  fit  point  at  which  to  interpose. 

'Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Sir/  rejoined  that  gentleman. 

'Has  anything  new  occurred  since  last  night?' 

'Nothin'  partickler,  sir/  replied  Sam,  glancing  at 
Mr.  Smangle's  whiskers;  'the  late  prewailance  of  a 
close  and  confined  atmosphere  has  been  rayther 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  241 

favourable  to  the  growth  of  veeds,  of  an  alarmin'  and 
sangvinary  natur;  but  vith  that  'ere  exception  things 
is  quiet  enough.' 

'I  shall  get  up,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'give  me  some 
clean  things.' 

Whatever  hostile  intentions  Mr.  Smangle  might 
have  entertained,  his  thoughts  were  speedily  diverted 
by  the  unpacking  of  the  portmanteau;  the  contents 
of  which,  appeared  to  impress  him  at  once  with  a 
most  favourable  opinion,  not  only  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
but  of  Sam  also,  who,  he  took  an  early  opportunity 
of  declaring  in  a  tone  of  voice  loud  enough  for  that 
eccentric  personage  to  overhear,  was  a  regular  thor- 
oughbred original,  and  consequently  the  very  man 
after  his  own  heart.  As  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  affec- 
tion he  conceived  for  him  knew  no  limits. 

'Now  is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  my  dear 
sir?'  said  Smangle. 

'Nothing  that  I  am  aware  of,  I  am  obliged  to  you,' 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No  linen  that  you  want  sent  to  the  washerwoman's? 
I  know  a  delightful  washerwoman  outside,  that  comes 
for  my  things  twice  a  week;  and,  by  Jove! — how 
devilish  lucky !— this  is  the  day  she  calls.  Shall  I  put 
any  of  those  little  things  up  with  mine?  Don't  say 
anything  about  the  trouble.  Confound  and  curse  it! 
if  one  gentleman  under  a  cloud,  is  not  to  put  himself 
a  little  out  of  the  way  to  assist  another  gentleman 
in  the  same  condition,  what 's  human  nature?' 

Thus  spake  Mr.  Smangle,  edging  himself  mean- 
while as  near  as  possible  to  the  portmanteau,  and 
beaming  forth  looks  of  the  most  fervent  and  disinter- 
ested friendship. 

'There  's  nothing  you  want  to  give  out  tor  the  man 
to  brush,  my  dear  creature,  is  there?'  resumec 
Smangle. 


242  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Nothin'  whatever,  my  fine  feller/  rejoined  Sam, 
taking  the  reply  into  his  own  mouth.  'P'raps  if  vim 
of  us  wos  to  brush,  without  troubling  the  man,  it  'ud 
be  more  agreeable  for  all  parties,  as  the  schoolmaster 
said  wen  the  young  gentleman  objected  to  being 
flogged  by  the  butler.' 

'And  there  's  nothing  that  I  can  send  in  my  little 
box  to  the  washerwoman's,  is  there?'  said  Smangle, 
turning  from  Sam  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  air  of 
some  discomfiture. 

'Nothin'  whatever,  sir,'  retorted  Sam;  'I  'm  afeerd 
the  little  box  must  be  chock  full  o'  your  own  as  it  is.' 

This  speech  was  accompanied  with  such  a  very  ex- 
pressive look  at  that  particular  portion  of  Mr. 
Smangle's  attire,  by  the  appearance  of  which  the 
skill  of  laundresses  in  getting  up  gentlemen's  linen 
is  generally  tested,  that  he  was  fain  to  turn  upon  his 
heel,  and,  for  the  present  at  any  rate,  to  give  up  all 
design  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  purse  and  wardrobe.  He 
accordingly  retired  in  dudgeon  to  the  racket-ground, 
where  he  made  a  light  and  wholesome  breakfast  on  a 
couple  of  the  cigars  which  had  been  purchased  on  the 
previous  night. 

Mr.  Mivins,  who  was  no  smoker,  and  whose  account 
for  small  articles  of  chandlery  had  also  reached  down 
to  the  bottom  of  the  slate,  and  been  'carried  over' 
to  the  other  side,  remained  in  bed,  and,  in  his  own 
words,  'took  it  out  in  sleep.' 

After  breakfasting  in  a  small  closet  attached  to  the 
coffee-room,  which  bore  the  imposing  title  of  the 
Snuggery;  the  temporary  inmate  of  which,  in  con- 
sideration of  a  small  additional  charge,  had  the 
unspeakable  advantage  of  overhearing  all  the  conver- 
sation in  the  coffee-room  aforesaid;  and  after  des- 
patching Mr.  Weller  on  some  necessary  errands,  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  243 

Pickwick  repaired  to  the  lodge,  to  consult  Mr.  Roker 
concerning  his  future  accommodation. 

'Accommodation,  eh?'  said  that  gentleman,  con- 
sulting a  large  book.  'Plenty  of  that,  Mr.  Pickvick. 
Your  chummage  ticket  will  be  on  twenty-seven,  in 
the  third.' 

'Oh,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'My  what,  did  you  say?' 

'Your  chummage  ticket,'  replied  Mr.  Roker; 
'you  're  up  to  that  ?' 

'Not  quite,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

'Why,'  said  Mr.  Roker,  'it 's  as  plain  as  Salisbury. 
You  '11  have  a  chummage  ticket  upon  twenty-seven 
in  the  third,  and  them  as  is  in  the  room  will  be  your 
chums.' 

'Are  there  many  of  them?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
dubiously. 

'Three,'  replied  Mr.  Roker. 

Mr.  Pickwick  coughed. 

'One  of  'em  's  a  parson,'  said  Mr.  Roker,  filling  ftp 
a  little  piece  of  paper  as  he  spoke ;  'another 's  a 
butcher.' 

'Eh?'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'A  butcher,'  repeated  Mr.  Roker,  giving  the  nib  of 
his  pen  a  tap  on  the  desk  to  cure  it  of  a  disinclination 
to  mark.  'What  a  thorough-paced  goer  he  used  to 
be  sure-ly!  You  remember  Tom  Martin,  Neddy?' 
said  Roker,  appealing  to  another  man  in  the  lodge, 
who  was  paring  the  mud  off  his  shoes  with  a  five-and- 
twenty  bladed  pocket-knife. 

'I  should  think  so,'  replied  the  party  addressed,  with 
a  strong  emphasis  on  the  personal  pronoun. 

'Bless  my  dear  eyes!'  said  Mr.  Roker,  shaking  his 
head  slowly  from  side  to  side,  and  gazing  abstractedly 
out  of  the  grated  windows  before  him,  as  if  he  were 
fondly  recalling  some  peaceful  scene  of  his  early 


244  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

youth;  'it  seems  but  yesterday  that  he  whopped  the 
coal-heaver  down  Fox-under-the-Hill  by  the  wharf 
there.  I  think  I  can  see  him  now,  a  coming  up  the 
Strand  between  the  two  street-keepers,  a  little  sobered 
by  the  bruising,  with  a  patch  o'  winegar  and  brown 
paper  over  his  right  eyelid,  and  that  'ere  lovely  bull- 
dog, as  pinned  the  little  boy  arterwards,  a  following 
at  his  heels.  What  a  rum  thing  Time  is,  ain't  it, 
Neddy?' 

The  gentleman  to  whom  these  observations  were 
addressed,  who  appeared  of  a  taciturn  and  thoughtful 
cast,  merely  echoed  the  inquiry;  Mr.  Roker,  shaking 
off  the  poetical  and  gloomy  train  of  thought  into 
which  he  had  been  betrayed,  descended  to  the  com- 
mon business  of  life,  and  resumed  his  pen. 

'Do  you  know  what  the  third  gentleman  is?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick,  not  very  much  gratified  by  this 
description  of  his  future  associates. 

''What  is  that  Simpson,  Neddy?'  said  Mr.  Roker, 
turning  to  his  companion. 

'What  Simpson?'  said  Neddy. 

'Why  him  in  twenty-seven  in  the  third,  that  this 
gentleman's  going  to  be  chummed  on.' 

'Oh,  him !'  replied  Neddy :  'he  's  nothing  exactly. 
He  was  a  horse  chaunter:  he  's  a  leg  now.' 

'Ah,  so  I  thought,'  rejoined  Mr.  Roker,  closing  the 
book,  and  placing  the  small  piece  of  paper  in  Mr. 
Pickwick's  hands.  'That 's  the  ticket,  sir.' 

Very  much  perplexed  by  this  summary  disposition 
of  his  person,  Mr.  Pickwick  walked  back  into  the 
prison,  revolving  in  his  mind  what  he  had  better  do. 
Convinced,  however,  that  before  he  took  any  other 
steps  it  would  be  advisable  to  see,  and  hold  personal 
converse  with,  the  three  gentlemen  with  whom  it  was 
proposed  to  quarter  him,  he  made  the  best  of  his  way 
to  the  third  flight. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  245 

After  groping  about  in  the  gallery  for  some  time, 
attempting  in  the  dim  light  to  decipher  the  numbers 
on  the  different  doors,  he  at  length  appealed  to  a  pot- 
boy, who  happened  to  be  pursuing  his  morning  occu- 
pation of  gleaning  for  pewter. 

'Which  is  twenty-seven,  my  good  fellow?'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Five  doors  further  on/  replied  the  potboy. 
'There  's  the  likeness  of  a  man  being  hung,  and  smok- 
ing a  pipe  the  while,  chalked  outside  the  door.' 

Guided  by  this  direction,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded 
slowly  along  the  gallery  until  he  encountered  the 
'portrait  of  a  gentleman,'  above  described,  upon  whose 
countenance  he  tapped,  with  the  knuckle  of  his  fore- 
finger— gently  at  first,  and  then  audibly.  After 
repeating  this  process  several  times  without  effect,  he 
ventured  to  open  the  door  and  peep  in. 

There  was  only  one  man  in  the  room,  and  he  was 
leaning  out  of  the  window  as  far  as  he  could  without 
overbalancing  himself,  endeavouring,  with  great  per- 
severance, to  spit  upon  the  crown  of  the  hat  of  a 
personal  friend  on  the  parade  below.  As  neither 
speaking,  coughing,  sneezing,  knocking,  nor  any 
other  mode  of  attracting  attention,  made  this  person 
aware  of  the  presence  of  a  visitor,  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
some  delay,  stepped  up  to  the  window,  and  pulled  him 
gently  by  the  coat-tail.  The  individual  brought  in 
his  head  and  shoulders  with  great  swiftness,  and  sur- 
veying Mr.  Pickwick  from  head  to  foot,  demanded  in 
a  surly  tone  what  the — something  beginning  with  a 
capital  H — he  wanted. 

'I  believe,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  consulting  his  ticket, 
'I  believe  this  is  twenty-seven  in  the  third?' 

'Well?'  replied  the  gentleman. 

'I  have  come  here  in  consequence  of  receiving  this 
bit  of  paper,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 


246  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Hand  it  over,'  said  the  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pickwick  complied. 

'I  think  Roker  might  have  chummed  you  some- 
where else/  said  Mr.  Simpson  (for  it  was  the  leg), 
after  a  very  discontented  sort  of  a  pause. 

Mr.  Pickwick  thought  so  also;  but,  under  all  the 
circumstances,  he  considered  it  a  matter  of  sound 
policy  to  be  silent. 

Mr.  Simpson  mused  for  a  few  minutes  after  this, 
and  then,  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  window,  gave 
a  shrill  whistle,  and  pronounced  some  word  aloud, 
several  times.  What  the  word  was,  Mr.  Pickwick 
could  not  distinguish;  but  he  rather  inferred  that  it 
must  be  some  nickname  which  distinguished  Mr. 
Martin:  from  the  fact  of  a  great  number  of  gentle- 
men on  the  ground  below,  immediately  proceeding  to 
cry  'Butcher!'  in  imitation  of  the  tone  in  which  that 
useful  class  of  society  are  wont,  diurnally,  to  make 
their  presence  known  at  area  railings. 

Subsequent  occurrences  confirmed  the  accuracy  of 
Mr.  Pickwick's  impression;  for,  in  a  few  seconds,  a 
gentleman,  prematurely  broad  for  his  years:  clothed 
in  a  professional  blue  jean  frock,  and  top-boots  with 
circular  toes:  entered  the  room  nearly  out  of  breath, 
closely  followed  by  another  gentleman  in  very  shabby 
black,  and  a  seal-skin  cap.  The  latter  gentleman, 
who  fastened  his  coat  all  the  way  up  to  his  chin  by 
means  of  a  pin  and  a  button  alternately,  had  a  very 
coarse  red  face,  and  looked  like  a  drunken  chaplain; 
which,  indeed,  he  was. 

These  two  gentlemen  having  by  turns  perused  Mr. 
Pickwick's  billet,  the  one  expressed  his  opinion  that 
it  was  'a  rig,'  and  the  other  his  conviction  that  it  was 
'a  go.'  Having  recorded  their  feelings  in  these  very 
intelligible  terms,  they  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
each  other  in  awkward  silence. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  247 

'It 's  an  aggravating  thing,  just  as  we  got  the  beds 
so  snug,'  said  the  chaplain,  looking  at  three  dirty  mat- 
trasses,  each  rolled  up  in  a  blanket:  which  occupied 
one  corner  of  the  room  during  the  day,  and  formed 
a  kind  of  slab,  on  which  were  placed  an  old  cracked 
basin,  ewer,  and  soap-dish,  of  common  yellow  earthen- 
ware, with  a  blue  flower.  'Very  aggravating.' 

Mr.  Martin  expressed  the  same  opinion  in  rather 
stronger  terms:  Mr.  Simpson,  after  having  let  a 
variety  of  expletive  adjectives  loose  upon  society 
without  any  substantive  to  accompany  them,  tucked 
up  his  sleeves,  and  began  to  wash  the  greens  for 
dinner. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been 
eyeing  the  room,  which  was  filthily  dirty,  and  smelt  in- 
tolerably close.  There  was  no  vestige  of  either  car- 
pet, curtain,  or  blind.  There  was  not  even  a  closet  in 
it.  Unquestionably  there  were  but  few  things  to  put 
away,  if  there  had  been  one;  but,  however  few  in  num- 
ber, or  small  in  individual  amount,  still,  remnants  of 
loaves  and  pieces  of  cheese,  and  damp  towels,  and 
scrags  of  meat,  and  articles  of  wearing  apparel,  and 
mutilated  crockery,  and  bellows  without  nozzles,  and 
toasting-forks  without  prongs,  do  present  somewhat 
of  an  uncomfortable  appearance  when  they  are  scat- 
tered about  the  floor  of  a  small  apartment,  which  is  the 
common  sitting  and  sleeping  room  of  three  idle  men. 

'I  suppose  this  can  be  managed  somehow,'  said  the 
butcher,  after  a  pretty  long  silence.  'What  will  you 
take  to  go  out?' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'What 
did  you  say?  I  hardly  understand  you.' 

'What  will  you  take  to  be  paid  out?'  said  the 
butcher.  'The  regular  chummage  is  two-and-six. 
Will  you  take  three  bob?' 

' — And  a  bender/  suggested  the  clerical  gentleman. 


248  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Well,  I  don't  mind  that ;  it 's  only  twopence  a-piece 
more,'  said  Mr.  Martin. 

'What  do  you  say,  now  ?  We  '11  pay  you  out  for 
three-and-sixpence  a  week.  Come !' 

'And  stand  a  gallon  of  beer  down,'  chimed  in  Mr. 
Simpson.  'There !' 

'And  drink  it  on  the  spot,'  said  the  chaplain.    'Now !' 

'I  really  am  so  wholly  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  this 
place,'  returned  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  I  do  not  yet  com- 
prehend you.  Can  I  live  anywhere  else  ?  I  thought 
I  could  not.' 

At  this  inquiry  Mr.  Martin  looked,  with  a  counte- 
nance of  excessive  surprise,  at  his  two  friends,  and 
then  each  gentleman  pointed  with  his  right  thumb  over 
his  left  shoulder.  This  action,  imperfectly  described 
in  words  by  the  very  feeble  term  of  'over  the  left,' 
when  performed  by  any  number  of  ladies  or  gentle- 
men who  are  accustomed  to  act  in  unison,  has  a  very 
graceful  and  airy  effect ;  its  expression  is  one  of  light 
and  playful  sarcasm. 

'Can  you!'  repeated  Mr.  Martin,  with  a  smile  of 
pity. 

'Well,  if  I  knew  as  little  of  life  as  that,  I  'd  eat  my 
hat  and  swallow  the  buckle  whole,'  said  the  clerical 
gentleman. 

'So  would  I,'  added  the  sporting  one,  solemnly. 

After  this  introductory  preface,  the  three  chums  in- 
formed Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  breath,  that  money  was,  in 
the  Fleet,  just  what  money  was  out  of  it ;  that  it  would 
instantly  procure  him  almost  anything  he  desired ;  and 
that,  supposing  he  had  it,  and  had  no  objection  to 
spend  it,  if  he  only  signified  his  wish  to  have  a  room  to 
himself,  he  might  take  possession  of  one,  furnished 
and  fitted  to  boot,  in  half  an  hour's  time. 

With  this,  the  parties  separated,  very  much  to  their 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  249 

common  satisfaction :  Mr.  Pickwick  once  more  retrac- 
ing his  steps  to  the  lodge:  and  the  three  companions 
adjourning  to  the  coffee-room,  there  to  spend  the  five 
shillings  which  the  clerical  gentleman  had,  with  ad- 
mirable prudence  and  foresight,  borrowed  of  him  for 
the  purpose. 

'I  knowed  it  1'  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a  chuckle,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  stated  the  object  with  which  he  had  re- 
turned. 'Didn't  I  say  so,  Neddy?' 

The  philosophical  owner  of  the  universal  penknife, 
growled  an  affirmative. 

'I  knowed  you  'd  want  a  room  for  yourself,  bless 
you !'  said  Mr.  Roker.  'Let  me  see.  You  '11  want 
some  furnitur.  You  '11  hire  that  of  me,  I  suppose? 
That 's  the  reg'lar  thing.' 

'With  great  pleasure,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'There  's  a  capital  room  up  in  the  coffee-room  flight, 
that  belongs  to  a  Chancery  prisoner,'  said  Mr.  Roker. 
'It  '11  stand  you  in  a  pound  a  week.  I  suppose  you 
don't  mind  that?' 

'Not  at  all,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Just  step  there  with  me,'  said  Roker,  taking  up  his 
hat  with  great  alacrity;  'the  matter's  settled  in  five 
minutes.  Lord!  why  didn't  you  say  at  first  that  you 
was  willing  to  come  down  handsome  ?' 

The  matter  was  soon  arranged,  as  the  turnkey  had 
foretold.  The  Chancery  prisoner  had  been  there  long 
enough  to  have  lost  friends,  fortune,  home,  and  hap- 
piness, and  to  have  acquired  the  right  of  having  a 
room  to  himself.  As  he  laboured,  however,  under  the 
inconvenience  of  often  wanting  a  morsel  of  bread,  he 
eagerly  listened  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  proposal  to  rent  the 
apartment,  and  readily  covenanted  and  agreed  to  yield 
him  up  the  sole  and  undisturbed  possession  thereof, 
in  consideration  of  the  weekly  payment  of  twenty 


250  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

shillings ;  from  which  fund  he  furthermore  contracted 
to  pay  out  any  person  or  persons  that  might  be 
chummed  upon  it. 

As  they  struck  the  bargain,  Mr.  Pickwick  surveyed 
him  with  a  painful  interest.  He  was  a  tall,  gaunt, 
cadaverous  man,  in  an  old  great-coat  and  slippers: 
with  sunken  cheeks,  and  a  restless,  eager  eye.  His 
lips  were  bloodless,  and  his  bones  sharp  and  thin. 
God  help  him!  the  iron  teeth  of  confinement  and  pri- 
vation had  been  slowly  filing  him  down  for  twenty 
years. 

'And  where  will  you  live  meanwhile,  sir?'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  he  laid  the  amount  of  the  first  week's 
rent,  in  advance,  on  the  tottering  table. 

The  man  gathered  up  the  money  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  replied  that  he  didn't  know  yet ;  he  must  go 
and  see  where  he  could  move  his  bed  to. 

'I  am  afraid,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his  hand 
gently  and  compassionately  on  his  arm;  'I  am  afraid 
you  will  have  to  live  in  some  noisy  crowded  place. 
Now,  pray,  consider  this  room  your  own  when  you 
want  quiet,  or  when  any  of  your  friends  come  to  see 
you/ 

'Friends!'  interposed  the  man,  in  a  voice  which 
rattled  in  his  throat.  'If  I  lay  dead  at  the  bottom  of 
the  deepest  mine  in  the  world ;  tight  screwed  down  and 
soldered  in  my  coffin;  rotting  in  the  dark  and  filthy 
ditch  that  drags  its  slime  along,  beneath  the  founda- 
tions of  this  prison ;  I  could  not  be  more  forgotten  or 
unheeded  than  I  am  here.  I  am  a  dead  man ;  dead  to 
society,  without  the  pity  they  bestow  on  those  whose 
souls  have  passed  to  judgment.  Friends  to  see  me! 
My  God!  I  have  sunk,  from  the  prime  of  life  into 
old  age,  in  this  place,  and  there  is  not  one  to  raise  his 
hand  above  my  bed  when  I  lie  dead  upon  it,  and  say, 
"It  is  a  blessing  he  is  gone!" 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  251 

The  excitement,  which  had  cast  an  unwonted  light 
over  the  man's  face,  while  he  spoke,  subsided  as  he 
concluded;  and,  pressing  his  withered  hands  together 
in  a  hasty  and  disordered  manner,  he  shuffled  from  the 
room. 

'Rides  rather  rusty/  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a  smile. 
'Ah!  they're  like  the  elephants.  They  feel  it  now 
and  then,  and  it  makes  'em  wild !' 

Having  made  this  deeply-sympathising  remark, 
Mr.  Roker  entered  upon  his  arrangements  with  such 
expedition,  that  in  a  short  time  the  room  was  fur- 
nished with  a  carpet,  six  chairs,  a  table,  a  sofa  bed- 
stead, a  tea-kettle,  and  various  small  articles,  on  hire, 
at  the  very  reasonable  rate  of  seven-and-twenty  shil- 
lings and  sixpence  per  week. 

'Now,  is  there  anything  more  we  can  do  for  you?' 
inquired  Mr.  Roker,  looking  round  with  great  satis- 
faction, and  gaily  chinking  the  first  week's  hire  in  his 
closed  fist. 

'Why,  yes,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been 
musing  deeply  for  some  time.  'Are  there  any  people 
here,  who  run  on  errands,  and  so  forth?' 

'Outside,  do  you  mean?'  inquired  Mr.  Roker. 

'Yes.  I  mean  who  are  able  to  go  outside.  Not 
prisoners.' 

'Yes,  there  is,'  said  Roker.  'There  's  an  unfortu- 
nate devil,  who  has  got  a  friend  on  the  poor  side,  that 's 
glad  to  do  anything  of  that  sort.  He  's  been  running 
odd  jobs,  and  that,  for  the  last  two  months.  Shall  I 
send  him?' 

'If  you  please,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Stay;  no. 
The  poor  side,  you  say?  I  should  like  to  see  it.  I'll 
go  to  him  myself.' 

The  poor 'side  of  a  debtors'  prison,  is,  as  its  name 
imports,  that  in  which  the  most  miserable  and  abject 
class  of  debtors  are  confined.  A  prisoner  having  de- 


252  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

elared  upon  the  poor  side,  pays  neither  rent  nor  chum- 
mage. His  fees,  upon  entering  and  leaving  the  gaol, 
are  reduced  in  amount,  and  he  becomes  entitled  to  a 
share  of  some  small  quantities  of  food:  to  provide 
which,  a  few  charitable  persons  have,  from  time  to 
time,  left  trifling  legacies  in  their  wills.  Most  of  our 
readers  will  remember,  that,  until  within  a  very  few 
years  past,  there  was  a  kind  of  iron  cage  in  the  wall 
of  the  Fleet  Prison,  within  which  was  posted  some 
man  of  hungry  looks,  who,  from  time  to  time,  rattled 
a  money-box,  and  exclaimed  in  a  mournful  voice, 
'Pray,  remember  the  poor  debtors;  pray  remember 
the  poor  debtors.'  The  receipts  of  this  box,  when 
there  were  any,  were  divided  among  the  poor  prison- 
ers ;  and  the  men  on  the  poor  side  relieved  each  other 
in  this  degrading  office. 

Although  this  custom  has  been  abolished,  and  the 
cage  is  now  boarded  up,  the  miserable  and  destitute 
condition  of  these  unhappy  persons  remains  the  same. 
We  no  longer  suffer  them  to  appeal  at  the  prison 
gates  to  the  charity  and  compassion  of  the  passers- 
by;  but  we  still  leave  unblotted  in  the  leaves  of  our 
statute  book,  for  the  reverence  and  admiration  of  suc- 
ceeding ages,  the  just  and  wholesome  law  which  de- 
clares that  the  sturdy  felon  shall  be  fed  and  clothed, 
and  that  the  penniless  debtor  shall  be  left  to  die  of 
starvation  and  nakedness.  This  is  no  fiction.  Not  a 
week  passes  over  our  heads,  but,  in  every  one  of  our 
prisons  for  debt,  some  of  these  men  must  inevitably 
expire  in  the  slow  agonies  of  want,  if  they  were  not 
relieved  by  their  fellow-prisoners. 

Turning  these  things  in  his  mind,  as  he  mounted  the 
narrow  staircase  at  the  foot  of  which  Roker  had  left 
him,  Mr.  Pickwick  gradually  worked  himself  to  the 
boiling-over  point;  and  so  excited  was  he  with  his  re- 
flections on  this  subject,  that  he  had  burst  into  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  253 

room  to  which  he. had  been  directed,  before  he  had  any 
distinct  recollection,  either  of  the  place  in  which  he 
was,  or  of  the  object  of  his  visit. 

The  general  aspect  of  the  room  recalled  him  to 
himself  at  once ;  but  he  had  no  sooner  cast  his  eyes  on 
the  figure  of  a  man  who  was  brooding  over  the  dusky 
fire,  than,  letting  his  hat  fall  on  the  floor,  he  stood  per- 
fectly fixed,  and  immovable,  with  astonishment. 

Yes ;  in  tattered  garments,  and  without  a  coat ;  his 
common  calico  shirt  yellow  and  in  rags ;  his  hair  hang- 
ing over  his  face ;  his  features  changed  with  suffering, 
and  pinched  with  famine ;  there  sat  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle; 
his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
fire,  and  his  whole  appearance  denoting  misery  and  de- 
jection! 

Near  him,  leaning  listlessly  against  the  wall,  stood 
a  strong-built  countryman,  flicking  with  a  worn-out 
hunting-whip  the  top-boot  that  adorned  his  right  foot ; 
his  left  being  (for  he  dressed  by  easy  stages)  thrust 
into  an  old  slipper.  Horses,  dogs,  and  drink,  had 
brought  him  there,  pell-mell.  There  was  a  rusty  spur 
on  the  solitary  boot,  which  he  occasionally  jerked  into 
the  empty  air,  at  the  same  time  giving  the  boot  a 
smart  blow,  and  muttering  some  of  the  sounds  by 
which  a  sportsman  encourages  his  horse.  He  was  rid- 
ing, in  imagination,  some  desperate  steeplechase  at 
that  moment.  Poor  wretch !  He  never  rode  a  match 
on  the  swiftest  animal  in  his  costly  stud  with  half  the 
speed  at  which  he  had  torn  along  the  course  that 
ended  in  the  Fleet. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  an  old  man  was 
seated  on  a  small  wooden  box,  with  his  eyes  riveted  on 
the  floor,  and  his  face  settled  into  an  expression  of  the 
deepest  and  most  hopeless  despair.  A  young  girl— 
his  little  granddaughter — was  hanging  about  him; 
endeavouring,  with  a  thousand  childish  devices,  to  en- 


254  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

gage  his  attention;  but  the  old  man  neither  saw  nor 
heard  her.  The  voice  that  had  been  music  to  him, 
and  the  eyes  that  had  been  light,  fell  coldly  on  his 
senses.  His  limbs  were  shaking  with  disease,  and  the 
palsy  had  fastened  on  his  mind. 

There  were  two  or  three  other  men  in  the  room, 
congregated  in  a  little  knot,  and  noisily  talking  among 
themselves.  There  was  a  lean  and  haggard  woman, 
too — a  prisoner's  wife — who  was  watering,  with  great 
solicitude,  the  wretched  stump  of  a  dried-up,  with- 
ered plant,  which,  it  was  plain  to  see,  could  never  send 
forth  a  green  leaf  again; — too  true  an  emblem,  per- 
haps, of  the  office  she  had  come  there  to  discharge. 

Such  were  the  objects  which  presented  themselves 
to  Mr.  Pickwick's  view,  as  he  looked  round  him  in 
amazement.  The  noise  of  some  one  stumbling  hastily 
into  the  room,  roused  him.  Turning  his  eyes  towards 
the  door,  they  encountered  the  new  comer ;  and  in  him, 
through  his  rags  and  dirt,  he  recognised  the  familiar 
features  of  Mr.  Job  Trotter. 

'Mr.  Pickwick !'  exclaimed  Job  aloud. 

'Eh?'  said  Jingle,  starting  from  his  seat.  'Mr. ! 

So  it  is — queer  place — strange  thing — serves  me 
right — very.'  Mr.  Jingle  thrust  his  hands  into  the 
place  where  his  trousers  pockets  used  to  be,  and,  drop- 
ping his  chin  upon  his  breast,  sank  back  into  his  chair. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  affected;  the  two  men  looked  so 
very  miserable.  The  sharp  involuntary  glance  Jingle 
had  cast  at  a  small  piece  of  raw  loin  of  mutton,  which 
Job  had  brought  in  with  him,  said  more  of  their  re- 
duced state  than  two  hours'  explanation  could  have 
done.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked  mildly  at  Jingle,  and 
said — 

'I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  in  private.  Will  you 
step  out  for  an  instant  ?' 

'Certainly,'  said  Jingle,  rising  hastily.     'Can't  step 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

far — no  danger  of  over-walking  yourself  here—Spike 
Park— grounds  pretty— romantic,  but  not  extensive- 
open  for  public  inspection— family  always  in  town— 
housekeeper  desperately  careful — very.' 

'You  have  forgotten  your  coat,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, as  they  walked  out  to  the  staircase,  and  closed 
the  door  after  them. 

'Eh?'  said  Jingle.  'Spout — dear  relation — uncle 
Tom — couldn't  help  it — must  eat,  you  know.  Wants 
of  nature — and  all  that.' 

'What  do  you  mean  ?' 

'Gone,  my  dear  sir — last  coat— can't  help  it.     Lived 
on  a  pair  of  boots — whole  fortnight.     Silk  umbrella- 
ivory  handle  —  week  —  fact  —  honour  —  ask  Job  - 
knows  it.' 

'Lived  for  three  weeks  upon  a  pair  of  boots,  and  a 
silk  umbrella  with  an  ivory  handle!'  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  had  only  heard  of  such  things  in  ship- 
wrecks, or  read  of  them  in  Constable's  Miscellany. 

'True,'  said  Jingle,  nodding  his  head.  'Pawn- 
broker's shop — duplicates  here — small  sums — mere 
nothing — all  rascals.' 

'Oh,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  much  relieved  by  this  ex- 
planation; 'I  understand  you.  You  have  pawned 
your  wardrobe.' 

'Everything — Job's    too — all    shirts    gone — never 
mind — saves  washing.     Nothing  soon — lie  in  bed- 
starve — die — Inquest — little   bone-house — poor   pris- 
oner— common  necessaries — hush  it  up — gentlemen 
of  the  jury — warden's  tradesmen — keep  it  snug- 
natural  death — coroner's  order — workhouse  funeral— 
serve  him  right — all  over — drop  the  curtain.' 

Jingle  delivered  this  singular  summary  of  his  pros- 
pects in  life  with  his  accustomed  volubility,  and  with 
various  twitches  of  the  countenance  to  counterfeit 
smiles.  Mr.  Pickwick  easily  perceived  that  his  reck- 


256  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

lessness  was  assumed,  and  looking  him  full,  but  not 
unkindly,  in  the  face,  saw  that  his  eyes  were  moist  with 
tears. 

'Good  fellow,'  said  Jingle,  pressing  his  hand,  and 
turning  his  head  away.  'Ungrateful  dog — boyish  to 
cry — can't  help  it — bad  fever — weak — ill — hungry. 
Deserved  it  all — but  suffered  much — very.'  Wholly 
unable  to  keep  up  appearances  any  longer,  and  per- 
haps rendered  worse  by  the  effort  he  had  made,  the 
dejected  stroller  sat  down  on  the  stairs,  and,  covering 
his  face  with  his  hands,  sobbed  like  a  child. 

'Come,  come,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable 
emotion,  'we  '11  see  what  can  be  done,  when  I  know  all 
about  the  matter.  Here,  Job;  where  is  that  fellow?' 

'Here,  sir,'  replied  Job,  presenting  himself  on  the 
staircase.  We  have  described  him,  by  the  bye,  as 
having  deeply-sunken  eyes,  in  the  best  of  times.  In 
his  present  state  of  want  and  distress,  he  looked  as  if 
those  features  had  gone  out  of  town  altogether. 

'Here,  sir,'  cried  Job. 

'Come  here,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  trying  to  look 
stern,  with  four  large  tears  running  down  his  waist- 
coat. 'Take  that,  sir.' 

Take  what?  In  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  such 
language,  it  should  have  been  a  blow.  As  the  world 
runs,  it  ought  to  have  been  a  sound,  hearty  cuff;  for 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  duped,  deceived,  and  wronged 
by  the  destitute  outcast  who  was  now  wholly  in  his 
power.  Must  we  tell  the  truth?  It  was  something 
from  Mr.  Pickwick's  waistcoat  pocket,  which  chinked 
as  it  was  given  into  Job's  hand,  and  the  giving  of 
which,  somehow  or  other,  imparted  a  sparkle  to  the 
eye,  and  a  swelling  to  the  heart,  of  our  excellent  old 
friend,  as  he  hurried  away. 

Sam  had  returned  when  Mr.  Pickwick  reached  his 
own  room,  and  was  inspecting  the  arrangements  that 


DISCOVERY   OF   JINGLE    IN    THE   FLEET. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  •_>:>: 

had  been  made  for  his  comfort,  with  a  kind  of  grim 
satisfaction  which  was  very  pleasant  to  look  upon. 
Having  a  decided  objection  to  his  master's  being  there 
at  all,  Mr.  Weller  appeared  to  consider  it  a  high 
moral  duty  not  to  appear  too  much  pleased  with  any- 
thing that  was  done,  said,  suggested,  or  proposed. 

'Well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Well,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'Pretty  comfortable  now,  eh,  Sam?' 

'Pretty  veil,  sir,'  responded  Sam,  looking  round  him 
in  a  disparaging  manner. 

'Have  you  seen  Mr.  Tupman  and  our  other 
friends  ?' 

'Yes,  I  have  seen  'em,  sir,  and  they  're  a  comin' 
to-morrow,  and  wos  wery  much  surprised  to  hear  they 
warn't  to  come  to-day,'  replied  Sam. 

'You  have  brought  the  things  I  wanted?' 

Mr.  Weller  in  reply  pointed  to  various  packages 
which  he  had  arranged,  as  neatly  as  he  could,  in  a 
corner  of  the  room. 

'Very  well,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  little 
hesitation ;  'listen  to  what  I  am  going  to  say,  Sam.' 

'Cert'nly,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  'fire  away,  sir.' 

'I  have  felt  from  the  first,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  much  solemnity,  'that  this  is  not  the  place  to  bring 
a  young  man  to.' 

'Nor  an  old  'un  neither,  sir,'  observed  Mr.  Weller. 

'You  're  quite  right,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'but 
old  men  may  come  here,  through  their  own  heedless- 
ness  and  unsuspicion ;  and  young  men  may  be  brought 
here  by  the  selfishness  of  those  they  serve.  It  is  bet- 
ter for  those  young  men,  in  every  point  of  view,  that 
they  should  not  remain  here.  Do  you  understand  me, 
Sam?' 

'Vy,  no,  sir,  I  do  NOT,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  dog- 
gedly. 


258 

'Try,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Veil,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam,  after  a  short  pause.  '1 
think  I  see  your  drift ;  and  if  I  do  see  your  drift,  it 's 
my  'pinion  that  you  're  a  comin'  it  a  great  deal  too 
strong,  as  the  mail-coachman  said  to  the  snow-storm, 
ven  it  overtook  him.' 

'I  see  you  comprehend  me,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'Independently  of  my  wish  that  you  should 
not  be  idling  about  a  place  like  this,  for  years  to  come, 
I  feel  that  for  a  debtor  in  the  Fleet  to  be  attended  by 
his  man-servant  is  a  monstrous  absurdity.  Sam,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  'for  a  time,  you  must  leave  me.' 

'Oh,  for  a  time,  eh,  sir?'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  rather 
sarcastically. 

'Yes,  for  the  time  that  I  remain  here/  said  Mr. 
Pickwick.  'Your  wages  I  shall  continue  to  pay. 
Any  one  of  my 'three  friends  wrill  be  happy  to  take 
you,  were  it  only  out  of  respect  to  me.  And  if  I  ever 
do  leave  this  place,  Sam,'  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
assumed  cheerfulness ;  'if  I  do,  I  pledge  you  my  word 
that  you  shall  return  to  me  instantly.' 

'Now  I  '11  tell  you  wot  it  is,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  in 
a  grave  and  solemn  voice,  'This  here  sort  o'  thing  won't 
do  at  all,  so  don't  let 's  hear  no  more  about  it.' 

'I  am  serious,  and  resolved,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'You  air,  air  you,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  firmly. 
'Wery  good,  sir.  Then  so  am  I.' 

Thus  speaking,  Mr.  Weller  fixed  his  hat  on  his 
head  with  great  precision,  and  abruptly  left  the  room. 

'Sam!'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  after  him, 
'Sam!  Here!' 

But  the  long  gallery  ceased  to  re-echo  the  sound  of 
footsteps.  Sam  Weller  was  gone. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  259 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

SHOWING  HOW  MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER  GOT  INTO 
DIFFICULTIES 

IN  a  lofty  room,  ill-lighted  and  worse  ventilated 
situate  in  Portugal  Street,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  there 
sit  nearly  the  whole  year  round,  one,  two,  three,  or  four 
gentlemen  in  wigs,  as  the  case  may  be,  with  little 
writing-desks  before  them,  constructed  after  the  fash- 
ion of  those  used  by  the  judges  of  the  land,  barring 
the  French  polish.  There  is  a  box  of  barristers  on 
their  right  hand;  there  is  an  inclosure  of  insolvent 
debtors  on  their  left;  and  there  is  an  inclined  plane 
of  most  especially  dirty  faces  in  their  front.  These 
gentlemen  are  the  Commissioners  of  the  Insolvent 
Court,  and  the  place  in  which  they  sit,  is  the  Insolvent 
Court  itself. 

It  is,  and  has  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the  remark- 
able fate  of  this  Court  to  be,  somehow  or  other,  held 
and  understood,  by  the  general  consent  of  all  the  des- 
titute shabby-genteel  people  in  London,  as  their  com- 
mon resort,  and  place  of  daily  refuge.  It  is  always 
full.  The  steams  of  beer  and  spirits  perpetually 
ascend  to  the  ceiling,  and,  being  condensed  by  the 
heat,  roll  down  the  walls  like  rain ;  there  are  more  old 
suits  of  clothes  in  it  at  one  time  than  will  be  offered 
for  sale  in  all  Houndsditch  in  a  twelvemonth;  more 
unwashed  skins  and  grizzly  beards  than  all  the  pumps 
and  shaving-shops  between  Tyburn  and  Whitechapel 
could  render  decent  between  sunrise  and  sunset. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  any  of  these  people 
have  the  least  shadow  of  business  in,  or  the  remotest 
connection  with,  the  place  they  so  indefatigably  at- 
tend. If  they  had,  it  would  be  no  matter  of  surprise, 


260  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  the  singularity  of  the  thing  would  cease.  Some 
of  them  sleep  during  the  greater  part  of  the  sitting ; 
others  carry  small  portable  dinners  wrapped  in  pocket 
handkerchiefs  or  sticking  out  of  their  worn-out  pock- 
ets, and  munch  and  listen  with  equal  relish;  but  no 
one  among  them  was  ever  known  to  have  the  slightest 
personal  interest  in  any  case  that  was  ever  brought 
forward.  Whatever  they  do,  there  they  sit  from  the 
first  moment  to  the  last.  When  it  is  heavy  rainy 
weather,  they  all  come  in,  wet  through;  and  at  such 
times  the  vapours  of  the  court  are  like  those  of  a 
fungus-pit. 

A  casual  visitor  might  suppose  this  place  to  be  a 
Temple  dedicated  to  the  Genius  of  Seediness.  There 
is  not  a  messenger  or  process-server  attached  to  it, 
who  wears  a  coat  that  was  made  for  him;  not  a  tol- 
erably fresh  or  wholesome-looking  man  in  the  whole 
establishment,  except  a  little  white-headed  apple- 
faced  tipstaff,  and  even  he,  like  an  ill-conditioned 
cherry  preserved  in  brandy,  seems  to  have  artificially 
dried  and  withered  up  into  a  state  of  preservation  to 
which  he  can  lay  no  natural  claim.  The  very  bar- 
risters' wigs  are  ill-powdered,  and  their  curls  lack 
crispness. 

But  the  attorneys,  who  sit  at  a  larger  bare  table  be- 
low the  Commissioners,  are,  after  all,  the  greatest 
curiosities.  The  professional  establishment  of  the 
more  opulent  of  these  gentlemen,  consists  of  a  blue 
bag  and  a  boy:  generally  a  youth  of  the  Jewish  per- 
suasion. They  have  no  fixed  offices,  their  legal  busi- 
ness being  transacted  in  the  parlours  of  public-houses,, 
or  the  yards  of  prisons :  whither  they  repair  in  crowds, 
and  canvass  for  customers  after  the  manner  of  omni- 
bus cads.  They  are  of  a  greasy  and  mildewed  ap- 
pearance ;  and  if  they  can  be  said  to  have  any  vices  at 
all,  perhaps  drinking  and  cheating  are  the  most  con- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  261 

spicuous  among  them.  Their  residences  are  usually 
on  the  outskirts  of  'the  Rules,'  chiefly  lying  within  a 
circle  of  one  mile  from  the  obelisk  in  St.  George's 
Fields.  Their  looks  are  not  prepossessing,  and  their 
manners  are  peculiar. 

Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  one  of  this  learned  body,  was  a 
fat  flabby  pale  man,  in  a  surtout  which  looked  green 
one  minute  and  brown  the  next:  with  a  velvet  collar 
of  the  same  cameleon  tints.  His  forehead  was  nar- 
row, his  face  wide,  his  head  large,  and  his  nose  all  on 
one  side,  as  if  Nature,  indignant  with  the  propensities 
she  observed  in  him  in  his  birth,  had  given  it  an  angry 
tweak  which  it  had  never  recovered.  Being  short- 
necked  and  asthmatic,  however,  he  respired  principally 
through  this  feature;  so,  perhaps,  what  it  wanted  in 
ornament,  it  made  up  in  usefulness. 

'I  'm  sure  to  bring  him  through  it,'  said  Mr.  Pell. 

'Are  you  though?'  replied  the  person  to  whom  the 
assurance  was  pledged. 

'Certain  sure,'  replied  Pell;  'but  if  he  'd  gone  to  any 
irregular  practitioner,  mind  you,  I  wouldn't  have  an- 
swered for  the  consequences.' 

'Ah !'  said  the  other,  with  open  mouth. 

'No,  that  I  wouldn't,'  said  Mr.  Pell;  and  he  pursed 
up  his  lips,  frowned,  and  shook  his  head  mysteriously. 

Now,  the  place  where  this  discourse  occurred,  was 
the  public-house  just  opposite  to  the  Insolvent  Court; 
and  the  person  with  whom  it  was  held,  was  no  other 
than  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  come  there,  to 
comfort  and  console  a  friend,  whose  petition  to  be 
discharged  under  the  act,  was  to  be  that  day  heard, 
and  whose  attorney  he  was  at  that  moment  consulting. 

'And  vere  is  George?'  inquired  the  old  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pell  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  a  back- 
parlour:  whither  Mr.  Weller  at  once  repairing,  was 
immediately  greeted  in  the  warmest  and  most  flatter- 


262  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ing  manner  by  some  half-dozen  of  his  professional 
brethren,  in  token  of  their  gratification  at  his  arrival. 
The  insolvent  gentleman,  who  had  contracted  a  specu- 
lative but  imprudent  passion  for  horsing  long  stages, 
which  had  led  to  his  present  embarrassments,  looked 
extremely  well,  and  was  soothing  the  excitement  of 
his  feelings  with  shrimps  and  porter. 

The  salutation  between  Mr.  Weller  and  his  friends 
was  strictly  confined  to  the  freemasonry  of  the  craft; 
consisting  of  a  jerking  round  of  the  right  wrist,  and  a 
tossing  of  the  little  finger  into  the  air  at  the  same 
time.  We  once  knew  two  famous  coachmen  (they 
are  dead  now,  poor  fellows)  who  were  twins,  and  be- 
tween whom  an  unaffected  and  devoted  attachment 
existed.  They  passed  each  other  on  the  Dover  road, 
every  day,  for  twenty-four  years,  never  exchanging 
any  other  greeting  than  this ;  and  yet,  when  one  died, 
the  other  pined  away,  and  soon  afterwards  followed 
him! 

'Veil,  George,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  taking  off 
his  upper  coat,  and  seating  himself  writh  his  accus- 
tomed gravity.  'How  is  it?  All  right  behind,  and 
full  inside  ?' 

'All  right,  old  feller/  replied  the  embarrassed  gen- 
tleman. 

'Is  the  grey  mare  made  over  to  anybody?'  inquired 
Mr.  Weller,  anxiously. 

George  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

'Veil,  that 's  all  right/  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Coach 
taken  care  on,  also?' 

'Con-signed  in  a  safe  quarter/  replied  George, 
wringing  the  heads  off  half  a  dozen  shrimps,  and  swat- 
lowing  them  without  more  ado. 

'Wery  good,  wery  good/  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Al- 
ways see  to  the  drag  ven  you  go  down  hill.  Is  the 
vay-bill  all  clear  and  straight  for'erd?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  263 

'The  schedule,  sir,'  said  Pell,  guessing  at  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  meaning,  'the  schedule  is  as  plain  and  satisfactory 
as  pen  and  ink  can  make  it.' 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  in  a  manner  which  bespoke  his 
inward  approval  of  these  arrangements;  and  then, 
turning  to  Mr.  Pell,  said,  pointing  to  his  friend 
George — 

'Ven  do  you  take  his  cloths  off?' 

'Why,'  replied  Mr.  Pell,  'he  stands  third  on  the  op- 
posed list,  and  I  should  think  it  would  be  his  turn  in 
about  half  an  hour.  I  told  my  clerk  to  come  over  and 
tell  us  when  there  was  a  chance.' 

Mr.  Weller  surveyed  the  attorney  from  head  to 
foot  with  great  admiration,  and  said  emphatically— 

'And  what  '11  you  take,  sir?' 

'Why,   really,'  replied  Mr.  Pell,  'you're  very— 
Upon  my  word  and  honour,  I  'm  not  in  the  habit  of— 
It 's  so  very  early  in  the  morning,  that,  actually,  I  am 
almost —    Well,  you  may  bring  me  three  penn'orth  of 
rum,  my  dear/ 

The  officiating  damsel,  who  had  anticipated  the 
order  before  it  was  given,  set  the  glass  of  spirits  before 
Pell,  and  retired. 

'Gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pell,  looking  round  upon  the 
company,  'Success  to  your  friend!  I  don't  like  to 
boast,  gentlemen ;  it 's  not  my  way ;  but  I  can't  help 
saying,  that,  if  your  friend  hadn't  been  fortunate 
enough  to  fall  into  hands  that —  But  I  won't  say 
what  I  was  going  to  say.  Gentlemen,  my  service  to 
you.'  Having  emptied  the  glass  in  a  twinkling,  >  I  r. 
Pell  smacked  his  lips,  and  looked  complacently  round 
on  the  assembled  coachmen,  who  evidently  regarded 
him  as  a  species  of  divinity. 

'Let  me  see,'  said  the  legal  authority.  'What  was  I 
a  saying,  gentlemen  ?' 

'I  think  you  was  remarkin'  as  you  wouldn't  have 


264  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

no  objection  to  another  o'  the  same,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Weller,  with  grave  f  acetiousness. 

'Ha,  ha !'  laughed  Mr.  Pell.  'Not  bad,  not  bad.  A 
professional  man,  too !  At  this  time  of  the  morning, 
it  would  be  rather  too  good  a —  Well,  I  don't  know, 
my  dear — you  may  do  that  again,  if  you  please. 
Hem!' 

This  last  sound  was  a  solemn  and  dignified  cough, 
in  which  Mr.  Pell  observing  an  indecent  tendency  to 
mirth  in  some  of  his  auditors,  considered  it  due  to  him- 
self to  indulge. 

'The  late  Lord  Chancellor,  gentlemen,  was  very 
fond  of  me,'  said  Mr.  Pell. 

'And  wery  creditable  in  him,  too,'  interposed  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Hear,  hear,'  assented  Mr.  Pell's  client.  'Why 
shouldn't  he  be?' 

'Ah!  Why,  indeed!'  said  a  very  red-faced  man, 
who  had  said  nothing  yet,  and  who  looked  extremely 
unlikely  to  say  anything  more.  'Why  shouldn't  he?' 

A  murmur  of  assent  ran  through  the  company. 

'I  remember,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pell,  'dining  with 
him  on  one  occasion; — there  was  only  us  two,  but 
everything  as  splendid  as  if  twenty  people  had  been 
expected — the  great  seal  on  a  dumb-waiter  at  his 
right  hand,  and  a  man  in  a  bag-wig  and  suit  of  armour 
guarding  the  mace  with  a  drawn  sword  and  silk  stock- 
ings— which  is  perpetually  done,  gentlemen,  night  and 
day;  when  he  said,  "Pell,"  he  said,  "no  false  delicacy, 
Pell.  You  're  a  man  of  talent ;  you  can  get  anybody 
through  the  Insolvent  Court,  Pell;  and  your  country 
should  be  proud  of  you."  Those  were  his  very  words. 
"My  Lord,"  I  said,  "you  flatter  me."— "Pell,"  he 
said,  "if  I  do,  I  'm  damned." 

*Did  he  say  that?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'He  did,'  replied  Pell. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Vrell,  then/  said  Mr.  \Veller,  'I  say  Parliament 
ought  to  ha'  took  it  up;  and  if  he  'd  been  a  poor  man, 
they  would  ha'  done  it.' 

'But,  my  dear  friend,'  argued  Mr.  Pell,  'it  was  in 
confidence.' 

Tn  what?'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'In  confidence.' 

'Oh!  wery  good,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  little 
reflection.  'If  he  damned  his-self  in  confidence,  o' 
course  that  was  another  thing.' 

'Of  course  it  was/  said  Mr.  PelL  'The  distinc- 
tion's obvious,  you  will  perceive/ 

'Alters  the  case  entirely/  said  Mr.  Weller.  'Go  on, 
sir/ 

'Xo,  I  will  not  go  on,  sir/  said  Mr.  Pell,  in  a  low  and 
serious  tone.  'You  have  reminded  me,  sir,  that  this 
conversation  was  private — private  and  confidential, 
gentlemen.  Gentlemen,  I  am  a  professional  man. 
It  may  be  that  I  am  a  good  deal  looked  up  to,  in  my 
profession — it  may  be  that  I  am  not.  Most  people 
know.  I  say  nothing.  Observations  have  already 
been  made,  in  this  room,  injurious  to  the  reputation  of 
my  noble  friend.  You  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen;  I 
was  imprudent.  I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  men- 
tion this  matter  without  his  concurrence.  Thank  you, 
sir;  thank  you/  Thus  delivering  himself,  Mr.  Pell 
thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and,  frowning 
grimly  around,  rattled  three-halfpence  with  terrible 
determination. 

This  virtuous  resolution  had  scarcely  been  formed, 
when  the  boy  and  the  blue  bag,  who  were  inseparable 
companions,  rushed  violently  into  the  room,  and  said 
(at  least  the  boy  did,  for  the  blue  bag  took  no  part 
in  the  announcement)  that  the  case  was  coming  on 
directly.  The  intelligence  was  no  sooner  received 
than  the  whole  party  hurried  across  the  street,  and 


266  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

began  to  fight  their  way  into  court — a  preparatory 
ceremony,  which  has  been  calculated  to  occupy,  in 
ordinary  cases,  from  twenty-five  minutes  to  thirty. 

Mr.  Weller,  being  stout,  cast  himself  at  once  into 
the  crowd,  with  the  desperate  hope  of  ultimately  turn- 
ing up  in  some  place  which  would  suit  him.  His  suc- 
cess was  not  quite  equal  to  his  expectations ;  for  having 
neglected  to  take  his  hat  off,  it  was  knocked  over  his 
eyes  by  some  unseen  person,  upon  whose  toes  he  had 
alighted  with  considerable  force.  Apparently,  this 
individual  regretted  his  impetuosity  immediately 
afterwards;  for,  muttering  an  indistinct  exclamation 
of  surprise,  he  dragged  the  old  man  out  into  the  hall, 
and,  after  a  violent  struggle,  released  his  head  and 
face. 

'Samiveir  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  was  thus 
enabled  to  behold  his  rescuer. 

Sam  nodded. 

'You  're  a  dutiful  and  affectionate  little  bov,  vou 

w  9    9 

are,  ain't  you  ?'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'to  come  a  bonnetin' 
your  father  in  his  old  age?' 

'How  should  I  know  who  you  wos?'  responded  the 
son.  'Do  you  s'pose  I  wos  to  tell  you  by  the  weight 
o'  your  foot?' 

'Veil,  that 's  wery  true,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, mollified  at  once;  'but  wot  are  you  a  doin'  on 
here?  Your  gov'nor  can't  do  no  good  here,  Sammy. 
They  won't  pass  that  werdick,  they  won't  pass  it, 
Sammy.'  And  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  with  legal 
solemnity. 

'Wot  a  perwerse  old  file  it  is!'  exclaimed  Sam, 
'always  a  goin'  on  about  werdicks  and  alleybis,  and 
that.  Who  said  anything  about  the  werdick?' 

Mr.  Weller  made  no  reply,  but  once  more  shook  his 
head  most  learnedly. 

'Leave  off  rattlin'  that  'ere  nob  o'  your'n,  if  you 


THE  PIC  K\\  1C  K   J'APKHS 

don't  want  it  to  come  off  the  springs  alto^-ther/  .>ai,l 
Sam  impatiently,  'and  behave  rea.sonable.  I  real  ail 
the  vay  down  to  the  Markis  o'  Granhy.  artt-r  vuu,  last 
night.' 

'Did  you  see  the  Marchioness  o'  Granby,  Sammv '.' 
inquired  Mr.  \VelJer,  with  a  sigh. 

'Yes,  I  did,'  replied  Sam. 

'How  wos  the  dear  creetur  a  lookinT 

'Wen-  queer,'  said  Sam.  'I  think  she  's  a  in  jurin 
herself  gradivally  vith  too  much  o'  that  'ere  pine- 
apple rum,  and  other  strong  medicines  o'  the  same 
natur.' 

'You  don't  mean  that,  Sammy?'  said  the  senior, 
earnestly. 

'I  do,  indeed,'  replied  the  junior.  Mr.  Weller 
seized  his  son's  hand,  clasped  it,  and  let  it  fall.  There 
was  an  expression  on  his  countenance  in  doing  so— 
not  of  dismay  or  apprehension,  but  partaking  more 
of  the  sweet  and  gentle  character  of  hope.  A  gleam 
of  resignation,  and  even  of  cheerfulness,  passed  over 
his  face  too,  as  he  slowly  said,  'I  ain't  quite  certain, 
Sammy ;  I  wouldn't  like  to  say  I  wos  altogether  posi- 
tive, in  case  of  any  subsekent  disappointment,  but  I 
rayther  think,  my  boy,  I  rayther  think,  that  the  shep- 
herd 's  got  the  liver  complaint !' 

'Does  he  look  bad  ?'  inquired  Sam. 

'He  's  uncommon  pale,'  replied  his  father,  '  'cept 
about  the  nose,  wich  is  redder  than  ever.  His  appe- 
tite is  wen-  so-so,  but  he  imbibes  wunderful.' 

Some  thoughts  of  the  rum  appeared  to  obtrude 
themselves  on  Mr.  Weller's  mind,  as  he  said  this;  for 
he  looked  gloomy  and  thoughtful;  but  he  very  shortly 
recovered,  as  was  testified  by  a  perfect  alphabet  of 
winks,  in  which  be  was  only  wont  to  indulge  when 
particularly  pleased. 

'Veil,  now/  said  Sam,  'about  my  affair.     Just  open 


268  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

them  ears  o'  your'n,  and  don't  say  nothin'  till  I  've 
done.'  With  this  brief  preface,  Sam  related,  as 
succinctly  as  he  could,  the  last  memorable  conversa- 
tion he  had  had  with  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Stop  there  by  himself,  poor  creetur!'  exclaimed 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  'without  nobody  to  take  his  part ! 
It  can't  be  done,  Samivel,  it  can't  be  done.' 

'O'  course  it  can't,'  asserted  Sam:  'I  know'd  that, 
afore  I  came.' 

'Wy,  they  '11  eat  him  up  alive,  Sammy,'  exclaimed 
Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  nodded  his  concurrence  in  the  opinion. 

'He  goes  in  rayther  raw,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
metaphorically,  'and  he  '11  come  out,  done  so  ex-ceedin' 
brown,  that  his  most  familiar  friends  won't  know 
him.  Roast  pigeon  's  nothin'  to  it,  Sammy.' 

Again  Sam  Weller  nodded. 

'It  oughtn't  to  be,  Samivel,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
gravely. 

'It  mustn't  be,'  said  Sam. 

'Cert'nly  not,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Veil  now,'  said  Sam,  'you  've  been  a  prophesyin' 
away,  wery  fine,  like  a  red-faced  Nixon  as  the  six- 
penny books  gives  picters  on.' 

'Who  wos  he,  Sammy?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'Never  mind  who  he  was,'  retorted  Sam ;  'he  warn't 
a  coachman;  that 's  enough  for  you.' 

'I  know'd  a  'ostler  o'  that  name,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
musing. 

'It  warn't  him,  said  Sam.  'This  here  gen'l'm'n  was 
a  prophet.' 

'Wot's  a  prophet?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  looking 
sternly  on  his  son. 

'Wy,  a  man  as  tells  what 's  a  goin'  to  happen,'  re- 
plied Sam. 

'I  wish  I  'd  know'd  him,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  209 

'P'raps  he  might  ha'  throw'd  a  small  light  on  that 
'ere  liver  complaint  as  we  wos  a  speakin'  on,  just  now. 
Hows'ever,  if  he  's  dead,  and  ain't  left  the  hisness 
to  nobody,  there  's  an  end  on  it.  Go  on,  Sammy,'  said 
Mr.  Weller,  with  a  sigh. 

'Well,'  said  Sam,  'you  Ve  been  a  prophesyin'  avay, 
about  wot  '11  happen  to  the  gov'nor  if  he  's  left  alone. 
Don't  you  see  any  vay  o'  takin'  care  on  him?' 

'No,  I  don't,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  re- 
flective visage. 

'No  vay  at  all?'  inquired  Sam. 

'No  vay,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'unless' — and  a  gleam 
of  intelligence  lighted  up  his  countenance  as  he  sunk 
his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  applied  his  mouth  to  the 
ear  of  his  offspring:  'unless  it  is  getting  him  out  in 
a  turn-up  bedstead,  unbeknown  to  the  turnkeys, 
Sammy,  or  dressin'  him  up  like  an  old  'ooman  vith  a 
green  wail.' 

Sam  Weller  received  both  of  these  suggestions  with 
unexpected  contempt,  and  again  propounded  his  ques- 
tion. 

'No/  said  the  old  gentleman;  'if  he  von't  let  you 
stop  there,  I  see  no  vay  at  all.  It 's  no  thoroughfare, 
Sammy,  no  thoroughfare.' 

'Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you  wot  it  is,'  said  Sam,  'I  '11 
trouble  you  for  the  loan  of  five-and-twenty  pound.' 

'Wot^good  'ull  that  do?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'Never  mind,'  replied  Sam.  'P'raps  you  may  ask 
for  it,  five  minits  artervards;  p'raps  I  may  say  I 
von't  pay,  and  cut  up  rough.  You  von't  think  o' 
arrestin'  your  own  son  for  the  money,  and  sendin'  him 
off  to  the  Fleet,  will  you,  you  unnat'ral  wagabone?' 

At  this  reply  of  Sam's  the  father  and  son  exchanged 
a  complete  code  of  telegraphic  nods  and  gestures, 
after  which,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  sat  himself  down  on 
a  stone  step,  and  laughed  till  he  was  purple. 


270  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Wot  a  old  image  it  is!'  exclaimed  Sam,  indignant 
at  this  loss  of  time.  'What  are  you  a  settin'  down 
there  for,  con-wertin'  your  face  into  a  street-door 
knocker,  wen  there  's  so  much  to  be  done  ?  Where  's 
the  money?' 

'In  the  boot,  Sammy,  in  the  boot,'  replied  Mr.  Wel- 
ler,  composing  his  features.  'Hold  my  hat,  Sammy.' 

Having  divested  himself  of  this  incumbrance,  Mr. 
Weller  gave  his  body  a  sudden  wrench  to  one  side, 
and,  by  a  dexterous  twist,  contrived  to  get  his  right 
hand  into  a  most  capacious  pocket,  from  whence,  after 
a  great  deal  of  panting  and  exertion,  he  extricated  a 
pocket-book  of  the  large  octavo  size,  fastened  by 
a  huge  leather  strap.  From  this  ledger  he  drew  forth 
a  couple  of  whip-lashes,  three  or  four  buckles,  a  little 
sample-bag  of  corn,  and  finally  a  small  roll  of  very 
dirty  banknotes:  from  which  he  selected  the  required 
amount,  which  he  handed  over  to  Sam. 

'And  now,  Sammy,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  when 
the  whip-lashes,  and  the  buckles,  and  the  samples,  had 
been  all  put  back,  and  the  book  once  more  deposited 
at  the  bottom  of  the  same  pocket,  'Now,  Sammy,  I 
know  a  gen'l'm'n  here,  as  '11  do  the  rest  o'  the  bisness 
for  us,  in  no  time — a  limb  o'  the  law,  Sammy,  as  has 
got  brains  like  the  frogs,  dispersed  all  over  his  body, 
and  reachin'  to  the  wery  tips  of  his  fingers;  a  friend 
of  the  Lord  Chancellorship's,  Sammy,  who  'd  only 
have  to  tell  him  what  he  wanted,  and  he  'd  lock  you 
up  for  life,  if  that  wos  all.' 

'I  say,'  said  Sam,  'none  o'  that.' 

'None  o'  wot?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

'Wy,  none  o'  them  unconstitootional  ways  o'  doing 
it,'  retorted  Sam.  'The  have-his-carcase,  next  to  the 
perpetual  motion,  is  vun  of  the  blessedest  things  as 
wos  ever  made.  I  've  read  that  'ere  in  the  news- 
papers, wery  of 'en.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  271 

Well,  wot 's  that  got  to  do  vith  it?'  inquired  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Just  this  here,'  said  Sam,  'that  I  '11  patronise  the 
mwention,  and  go  in,  that  vay.  No  visperin's  to  the 
Chancellorship,  I  don't  like  the  notion.  It  mayn't  be 
altogether  safe,  vith  reference  to  gettin'  out  agin.* 

Deferring  to  his  son's  feeling  upon  this  point,  Mr. 
Weller  at  once  sought  the  erudite  Solomon  Pell,  and 
acquainted  him  with  his  desire  to  issue  a  writ,  in- 
stantly, for  the  sum  of  twenty-five  pounds,  and  costs 
of  process;  to  be  executed  without  delay  upon  the 
body  of  one  Samuel  Weller;  the  charges  thereby  in- 
curred, to  be  paid  in  advance  to  Solomon  Pell. 

The  attorney  was  in  high  glee,  for  the  embarrassed 
coach-horser  was  ordered  to  be  discharged  forthwith. 
He  highly  approved  of  Sam's  attachment  to  his  mas- 
ter ;  declared  that  it  strongly  reminded  him  of  his  own 
feelings  of  devotion  to  his  friend,  the  Chancellor; 
and  at  once  led  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  down  to  the 
Temple,  to  swear  the  affidavit  of  debt,  which  the  boy, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  blue  bag,  had  drawn  up  on 
the  spot. 

Meanwhile,  Sam,  having  been  formally  introduced 
to  the  white-washed  gentleman  and  his  friends,  as  the 
offspring  of  Mr.  Weller,  of  the  Belle  Savage,  was 
treated  with  marked  distinction,  and  invited  to  regale 
himself  with  them  in  honour  of  the  occasion ;  an  invi- 
tation which  he  was  by  no  means  backward  in  ac- 
cepting. 

The  mirth  of  gentlemen  of  this  class  is  of  a  grave 
and  quiet  character,  usually ;  but  the  present  instance 
was  one  of  peculiar  festivity,  and  they  relaxed  in  pro- 
portion. After  some  rather  tumultuous  toasting  of 
the  Chief  Commissioner  and  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  who 
had  that  day  displayed  such  transcendent  abilities,  a 
mottled-faced  gentleman  in  a  blue  shawl  proposed 


272  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

that  somebody  should  sing  a  song.  The  obvious  sug- 
gestion was,  that  the  mottled-faced  gentleman,  being 
anxious  for  a  song,  should  sing  it  himself;  but  this 
the  mottled-faced  gentleman  sturdily,  and  somewhat 
offensively,  declined  to  do.  Upon  which,  as  is  not 
unusual  in  such  cases,  a  rather  angry  colloquy  ensued. 

'Gentlemen,'  said  the  coach-horser,  'rather  than  dis- 
turb the  harmony  of  this  delightful  occasion,  perhaps 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  will  oblige  the  company.' 

'Raly,  gentlemen,'  said  Sam,  'I  'm  not  wery  much 
in  the  habit  o'  singin'  without  the  instrument;  but 
anythin'  for  a  quiet  life,  as  the  man  said  wen  he  took 
the  sitivation  at  the  lighthouse.' 

With  this  prelude,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  burst  at 
once  into  the  following  wild  and  beautiful  legend, 
which,  under  the  impression  that  it  is  not  generally 
known,  we  take  the  liberty  of  quoting.  We  would 
beg  to  call  particular  attention  to  the  monosyllable  at 
the  end  of  the  second  and  fourth  lines,  which  not  only 
enables  the  singer  to  take  breath  at  those  points,  but 
greatly  assists  the  metre. 

EOMANCE 


BOLD  Turpin  vunce,  on  Hounslow  Heath, 

His  bold  mare  Bess  bestrode — er; 

Ven  there  he  see'd  the  Bishop's  coach 

A  coming  along  the  road — er. 

So  he  gallops  close  to  the  'orse's  legs, 

And  he  clasps  his  head  vithin; 

And  the  Bishop  says,  'Sure  as  eggs  is  eggs, 

This  here  's  the  bold  Turpin !' 


CHORUS 


And  the  Bishop  says,  'Sure  as  eggs  is  eggs, 
This  here  's  the  bold  Turpin!' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  273 


Says  Turpin,  'You  shall  eat  your  words, 

With  a  sarse  of  leaden  bul-let'; 

So  he  puts  a  pistol  to  his  mouth, 

And  he  fires  it  down  his  gul-let. 

The  coachman  he  not  likin'  the  job, 

Set  off  at  a  full  gal-lop, 

But  Dick  put  a  couple  of  balls  in  his  nob, 

And  perwailed  on  him  to  stop. 

CHORUS  (sarcastically) 

But  Dick  put  a  couple  of  balls  in  his  nob, 
And  perwailed  on  him  to  stop. 

'I  maintain  that  that  'ere  song  's  personal  to  the 
cloth,'  said  the  mottled- faced  gentleman,  interrupting 
it  at  this  point.  'I  demand  the  name  o'  that  coach- 
man.' 

'Xobody  know'd,'  replied  Sam.  'He  hadn't  got 
his  card  in  his  pocket.' 

'I  object  to  the  introduction  o'  politics,'  said  the 
mottled-faced  gentleman.  'I  submit  that,  in  the  pres- 
ent company,  that  'ere  song 's  political ;  and,  wot 's 
much  the  same,  that  it  ain't  true.  I  say  that  that 
coachman  did  not  run  away ;  but  that  he  died  game- 
game  as  pheasants;  and  I  won't  hear  nothin'  said  to 
the  contrairey.' 

As  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  spoke  with  great 
energy  and  determination:  and  as  the  opinions  of  the 
company  seemed  divided  on  the  subject;  it  threat- 
ened to  give  rise  to  fresh  altercation,  when  Mr.  Weller 
and  Mr.  Pell  most  opportunely  arrived. 

'All  right,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'The  officer  will  be  here  at  four  o'clock,'  said  Mr. 
Pell.  'I  suppose  you  won't  run  away  meanwhile,  eh? 
Ha!  ha!' 

'P'raps  my  cruel  pa  'ull  relent  afore  then/  replied 
Sam,  with  a  broad  grin. 


274  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Not  I,'  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

'Do,'  said  Sam. 

'Not  on  no  account,'  replied  the  inexorable  creditor. 

'I  '11  give  bills  for  the  amount,  at  sixpence  a  month,' 
said  Sam. 

'I  won't  take  'em,'  said  Mr.  Weller. 

'Ha,  ha,  ha!  very  good,  very  good,'  said  Mr.  Solo- 
mon Pell,  who  was  making  out  his  little  bill  of  costs : 
'a  very  amusing  incident  indeed.  Benjamin,  copy 
that.'  And  Mr.  Pell  smiled  again,  as  he  called  Mr. 
Weller's  attention  to  the  amount. 

'Thank  you,  thank  you,'  said  the  professional  gen- 
tleman, taking  up  another  of  the  greasy  notes  as  Mr. 
Weller  took  it  from  the  pocket-book.  'Three  ten  and 
one  ten  is  five.  Much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Weller. 
Your  son  is  a  most  deserving  young  man,  very  much 
so  indeed,  sir.  It 's  a  very  pleasant  trait  in  a  young 
man's  character,  very  much  so,'  added  Mr.  Pell,  smil- 
ing smoothly  round,  as  he  buttoned  up  the  money. 

'Wot  a  game  it  is!'  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  with 
a  chuckle.  'A  reg'lar  prodigy  son !' 

'Prodigal,  prodigal  son,  sir,'  suggested  Mr.  Pell, 
mildly. 

'Never  mind,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  dignity. 
*I  know  wot 's  o'clock,  sir.  Wen  I  don't,  I  '11  ask  you, 
sir.' 

By  the  time  the  officer  arrived,  Sam  had  made  him- 
self so  extremely  popular,  that  the  congregated  gen- 
tlemen determined  to  see  him  to  prison  in  a  body.  So, 
off  they  set ;  the  plaintiff  and  defendant  walking  arm- 
in-arm;  the  officer  in  front;  the  eight  stout  coachmen 
bringing  up  the  rear.  At  Serjeants'  Inn  Coffee-* 
house  the  whole  party  halted  to  refresh,  and,  the  legal 
arrangements  being  completed,  the  procession  moved 
on  again. 

Some  little   commotion   was   occasioned  in   Fleet 


275 

Street,  by  the  pleasantry  of  the  eight  gentlemen  in 
the  flank,  who  persevered  in  walking  four  abreast; 
it  was  also  found  necessary  to  leave  the  mottled-faced 
gentleman  behind,  to  fight  a  ticket-porter,  it  being 
arranged  that  his  friends  should  call  for  him  as  they 
came  back.  Nothing  but  these  little  incidents  oc- 
curred on  the  way.  When  they  reached  the  gate  of 
the  Fleet,  the  cavalcade,  taking  the  time  from  the 
plaintiff,  gave  three  tremendous  cheers  for  the  de- 
fendant, and,  after  having  shaken  hands  all  round, 
left  him. 

Sam,  having  been  formally  delivered  into  the 
warden's  custody,  to  the  intense  astonishment  of 
Roker,  and  to  the  evident  emotion  of  even  the  phleg- 
matic Neddy,  passed  at  once  into  the  prison,  walked 
straight  to  his  master's  room,  and  knocked  at  the 
door. 

'Come  in,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  appeared,  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  smiled. 

'All,  Sam,  my  good  lad!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  evi- 
dently delighted  to  see  his  humble  friend  again;  'I 
had  no  intention  of  hurting  your  feelings  yesterday, 
my  faithful  fellow,  by  what  I  said.  Put  down  your 
hat,  Sam,  and  let  me  explain  my  meaning,  a  little 
more  at  length.' 

'Won't  presently  do,  sir?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'but  why  not  now? 

'I  'd  rayther  not  now,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam. 

'Why?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'  'Cause—'  said  Sam,  hesitating. 

'Because  of  what?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  alarmed 
at  his  follower's  manner.  'Speak  out,  Sam.' 

"Cause,'  rejoined  Sam:  "cause  I've  got  a  J 
bisness  as  I  want  to  do.'  . 

'What  business?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  surpnsec 
at  Sam's  confused  manner. 


276  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Nothin'  partickler,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'Oh,  if  it 's  nothing  particular,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  smile,  'you  can  speak  with  me  first.' 

'I  think  I  'd  better  see  arter  it  at  once,'  said  Sam, 
still  hesitating. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  amazed,  but  said  nothing. 

'The  fact  is,'  said  Sam,  stopping  short. 

'Well!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Speak  out,  Sam.' 

'Why,  the  fact  is,'  said  Sam,  with  a  desperate  ef- 
fort, 'p'raps  I  'd  better  see  arter  my  bed  afore  I  do 
anythin'  else.' 

'Your  bed!1  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

'Yes,  my  bed,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'I  'm  a  pris'ner. 
I  was  arrested,  this  here  wery  arternoon,  for  debt.' 

'You  arrested  for  debt!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
sinking  into  a  chair. 

'Yes,  for  debt,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'And  the  man  as 
puts  me  in,  'ull  never  let  me  out,  till  you  go  yourself.' 

'Bless  my  heart  and  soul!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'What  do  you  mean?' 

'Wot  I  say,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam.  'If  it 's  forty  year 
to  come,  I  shall  be  a  pris'ner,  and  I  'm  very  glad  on 
it,  and  if  it  had  been  Newgate,  it  would  ha'  been  just 
the  same.  Now  the  murder 's  out,  and,  damme, 
there  's  an  end  on  it !' 

With  these  words,  which  he  repeated  with  great 
emphasis  and  violence,  Sam  Weller  dashed  his  hat 
upon  the  ground,  in  a  most  unusual  state  of  excite- 
ment; and  then,  folding  his  arms,  looked  firmly  and 
fixedly  in  his  master's  face. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  277 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

TREATS  OF  DIVERS  LITTLE  MATTERS  WHICH  OCCURRED 
IN  THE  FLEET,  AND  OF  MR.  WINKLE'S  MYSTERIOUS 
BEHAVIOUR;  AND  SHOWS  HOW  THE  POOR  CHANCERY 
PRISONER  OBTAINED  HIS  RELEASE  AT  LAST 

MR.  PICKWICK  felt  a  great  deal  too  much  touched  by 
the  warmth  of  Sam's  attachment,  to  be  able  to  exhibit 
any  manifestation  of  anger  or  displeasure  at  the  pre- 
cipitate course  he  had  adopted,  in  voluntarily  con- 
signing himself  to  a  debtors'  prison,  for  an  indefinite 
period.  The  only  point  on  which  he  persevered  in 
demanding  any  explanation,  was,  the  name  of  Sam's 
detaining  creditor;  but  this  Mr.  Weller  as  persever- 
ingly  withheld. 

'It  ain't  o'  no  use,  sir,'  said  Sam,  again  and  again. 
'He's  a  malicious,  bad-disposed,  vorldly-minded,  spite- 
ful, windictive  creetur,  with  a  hard  heart  as  there  ain't 
no  sof  t'nin'.  As  the  wirtuous  clergyman  remarked  of 
the  old  gen'l'm'n  with  the  dropsy,  ven  he  said,  that 
upon  the  whole  he  thought  he'd  rayther  leave  his 
property  to  his  vif  e  than  build  a  chapel  vith  it.' 

'But  consider,  Sam,'  Mr.  Pickwick  remonstrated, 
'the  sum  is  so  small  that  it  can  very  easily  be  paid; 
and  having  made  up  my  mind  that  you  shall  stop  with 
me,  you  should  recollect  how  much  more  useful  you 
would  be,  if  you  could  go  outside  the  walls/ 

'Wery  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Wel- 
ler gravely;  'but  I  'd  rayther  not.' 

'Rather  not  do  what,  Sam?' 

'Wy,  I  'd  rayther  not  let  myself  down  to  ask  a 
favour  o'  this  here  unremorseful  enemy.' 

'But  it  is  no  favour  asking  him  to  take  his  money, 
Sam,'  reasoned  Mr.  Pickwick. 


278  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam;  'but  it  'ud 
be  a  wery  great  favour  to  pay  it,  and  he  don't  deserve 
none;  that 's  where  it  is,  sir.' 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  nose  with  an  air 
of  some  vexation,  Mr.  Weller  thought  it  prudent  to 
change  the  theme  of  the  discourse. 

'I  takes  my  determination  on  principle,  sir,'  re- 
marked Sam,  'and  you  takes  yours  on  the  same 
ground;  wich  puts  me  in  mind  o'  the  man  as  killed 
his-self  on  principle,  wich  o'  course  you've  heerd  on, 
sir.'  Mr.  Weller  paused  when  he  arrived  at  this 
point,  and  cast  a  comical  look  at  his  master  out  of  the 
corners  of  his  eyes. 

'There  is  no  "of  course"  in  the  case,  Sam,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  gradually  breaking  into  a  smile,  in  spite  of 
the  uneasiness  which  Sam's  obstinacy  had  given  him. 
'The  fame  of  the  gentleman  in  question  never  reached 
my  ears.' 

'No,  sir !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller.  'You  astonish  me, 
sir ;  he  wos  a  clerk  in  a  gov'ment  office,  sir.' 

'Was  he?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes,  he  wos,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  'and  a  wery 
pleasant  gen'l'm'n  too — one  o'  the  precise  and  tidy 
sort,  as  puts  their  feet  in  little  India-rubber  fire- 
buckets  wen  it 's  wet  weather,  and  never  has  no  other 
bosom  friends  but  hare-skins;  he  saved  up  his  money 
on  principle,  wore  a  clean  shirt  ev'ry  day  on  principle ; 
never  spoke  to  none  of  his  relations  on  principle,  'fear 
they  shou'd  want  to  borrow  money  of  him;  and  wos 
altogether,  in  fact,  an  uncommon  agreeable  character. 
He  had  his  hair  cut  on  principle  vunce  a  fortnight, 
and  contracted  for  his  clothes  on  the  economic  princi- , 
pie — three  suits  a  year,  and  send  back  the  old  'uns. 
Being  a  wery  reg'lar  gen'l'm'n,  he  din'd  ev'ry  day 
at  the  same  place,  where  it  wos  one  and  nine  to  cut 
off  the  joint,  and  a  wery  good  one  and  nine's  worth 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  279 

he  used  to  cut,  as  the  landlord  often  said,  with  the 
tears  a  tricklin'  down  his  face:  let  alone  the  way  he 
used  to  poke  the  fire  in  the  vinter  time,  which  wos  a 
dead  loss  o'  four-pence  ha'penny  a  day :  to  say  nothin' 
at  all  o'  the  aggrawation  o'  seein'  him  do  it.  So  un- 
common grand  with  it  too!  "Post  arter  the  next 
gen'l'm'n,"  he  sings  out  ev'ry  day  ven  he  comes  in. 
"See  arter  the  Times,  Thomas;  let  me  look  at  the 
Mornin'  Herald,  wen  it 's  out  o'  hand ;  don't  forget 
to  bespeak  the  Chronicle;  and  just  bring  the  'Tizer, 
vill  you":  and  then  he  'd  set  vith  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
clock,  and  rush  out,  just  a  quarter  of  a  minute  afore 
the  time,  to  waylay  the  boy  as  wos  a  comin'  in  with  the 
evenin'  paper,  wich  he  'd  read  with  sich  intense  in- 
terest and  persewerance  as  worked  the  other  customers 
up  to  the  wery  confines  o'  desperation  and  insanity, 
'specially  one  i-rascible  old  gen'l'm'n  as  the  vaiter 
was  always  obliged  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on,  at  sich 
times,  fear  he  should  be  tempted  to  commit  some  rash 
act  with  the  carving  knife.  Veil,  sir,  here  he  'd  stop, 
occupyin'  the  best  place  for  three  hours,  and  never 
takin'  nothin'  arter  his  dinner,  but  sleep,  and  then 
he  'd  go  away  to  a  coffee-house  a  few  streets  off,  and 
have  a  small  pot  o'  coffee  and  four  crumpets,  arter 
wich  he  'd  walk  home  to  Kensington  and  go  to  bed. 
One  night  he  wos  took  very  ill;  sends  for  a  doctor; 
doctor  comes  in  a  green  fly,  with  a  kind  o'  Robinson 
Crusoe  set  o'  steps,  as  he  could  let  down  wen  he  got 
out,  and  pull  up  arter  him  wen  he  got  in,  to  perwent 
the  necessity  o'  the  coachman's  gettin'  down,  and 
thereby  undeceivin'  the  public  by  lettin'  'em  see  that 
it  wos  only  a  livery  coat  as  he  'd  got  on,  and  not  the 
trousers  to  match.  "Wot's  the  matter?  says  the 
doctor.  "Wery  ill,"  says  the  patient  Wot  have 
you  been  a  eatin'  on?"  says  the  doctor.  Roast  weal, 
says  the  patient.  'Wot's  the  last  thing  you  de- 


280  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

woured?"  says  the  doctor.  "Crumpets,"  says  the 
patient.  "That's  it!"  says  the  doctor.  "I'll  send 
you  a  box  of  pills  directly,  and  don't  you  never  take 
no  more  of  'em,"  he  says.  "No  more  o'  wot?"  says 
the  patient — "Pills?"  "No;  crumpets,"  says  the  doc- 
tor. "Wy?"  says  the  patient,  starting  up  in  bed; 
"I  've  eat  four  crumpets,  ev'ry  night  for  fifteen 
year,  on  principle."  "Well,  then,  you  'd  better  leave 
'em  off,  on  principle,"  says  the  doctor.  "Crumpets  is 
wholesome,  sir,"  says  the  patient.  "Crumpets  is  not 
wholesome,  sir,"  says  the  doctor,  wery  fierce.  "But 
they  're  so  cheap,"  says  the  patient,  comin'  down  a 
little,  "and  so  wery  fillin'  at  the  price."  "They  'd  be 
dear  to  you,  at  any  price;  dear  if  you  WTOS  paid  to 
eat  'em,"  says  the  doctor.  "Four  crumpets  a  night," 
he  says,  "vill  do  your  business  in  six  months  1"  The 
patient  looks  him  full  in  the  face,  and  turns  it  over 
in  his  mind  for  a  long  time,  and  at  last  he  says,  "Are 
you  sure  o'  that  'ere,  sir?"  "I  '11  stake  my  profes- 
sional reputation  on  it,"  says  the  doctor.  "How 
many  crumpets,  at  a  sittin',  do  you  think  'ud  kill  me 
off  at  once?"  says  the  patient.  "I  don't  know,"  says 
the  doctor.  "Do  you  think  half-a-crown's  wurth  'ud 
do  it?"  says  the  patient.  "I  think  it  might,"  says  the 
doctor.  "Three  shillin's'  wurth  'ud  be  sure  to  do  it, 
I  s'pose?"  says  the  patient.  "Certainly,"  says  the 
doctor.  "Wery  good,"  says  the  patient;  "good 
night."  Next  mornin'  he  gets  up,  has  a  fire  lit,  orders 
in  three  shillin's'  wurth  o'  crumpets,  toasts  'em  all, 
eats  'em  all,  and  blows  his  brains  out.' 

'What  did  he  do  that  for?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick 
abruptly;  for  he  was  considerably  startled  by  this 
tragical  termination  of  the  narrative. 

'Wot  did  he  do  it  for,  sir?'  reiterated  Sam.  'Wy 
in  support  of  his  great  principle  that  crumpets  wos 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  281 

vvholesome,  and  to  show  that  he  wouldn't  be  put  out 
of  his  way  for  nobody !' 

With  such-like  shiftings  and  changings  of  the  dis- 
course did  Mr.  Weller  meet  his  master's  questioning 
on  the  night  of  his  taking  up  his  residence  in  the 
Fleet.  Finding  all  gentle  remonstrance  useless,  Mr. 
Pickwick  at  length  yielded  a  reluctant  consent  to  his 
taking  lodgings  by  the  week,  of  a  bald-headed  cob- 
bler, who  rented  a  small  slip-room  in  one  of  the  upper 
galleries.  To  this  humble  apartment  Mr.  Weller 
moved  a  mattress  and  bedding,  which  he  hired  of  Mr. 
Roker ;  and,  by  the  time  he  lay  down  upon  it  at  night, 
was  as  much  at  home  as  if  he  had  been  bred  in  the 
prison,  and  his  whole  family  had  vegetated  therein 
for  three  generations. 

'Do  you  always  smoke  arter  you  goes  to  bed,  old 
cock?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller  of  his  landlord,  when  they 
had  both  retired  for  the  night. 

'Yes,  I  does,  young  bantam,'  replied  the  cobbler. 

'Will  you  allow  me  to  in-quire  wy  you  make  up  your 
bed  under  that  'ere  deal  table?'  said  Sam. 

'  'Cause  I  was  always  used  to  a  four-poster  afore  I 
came  here,  and  I  find  the  legs  of  the  table  answer 
just  as  well,'  replied  the  cobbler. 

'You  're  a  character,  sir,'  said  Sam. 

'I  haven't  got  anything  of  the  kind  belonging  to 
me,'  rejoined  the  cobbler,  shaking  his  head;  'and  if 
you  want  to  meet  with  a  good  one,  I  'm  afraid  you  '1 
find  some  difficulty  in  suiting  yourself  at  this  register 

office.' 

The  above  short  dialogue  took  place  as  Mr.  Weller 
lay  extended  on  his  mattress  at  one  end  of  the  room, 
and  the  cobbler  on  his,  at  the  other;  the  apartment 
being  illumined  by  the  light  of  a  rush  candle,  and  the 
cobbler's  pipe,  which  was  glowing  below  the  table, 


282  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

like  a  red-hot  coal.  The  conversation,  brief  as  it  was, 
predisposed  Mr.  Weller  strongly  in  his  landlord's 
favour;  and  raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he  took  a 
more  lengthened  survey  of  his  appearance  than  he 
had  yet  had  either  time  or  inclination  to  make. 

He  was  a  sallow  man — all  cobblers  are;  and  had  a 
strong  bristly  beard — all  cobblers  have.  His  face 
was  a  queer,  good-tempered,  crooked-featured  piece 
of  workmanship,  ornamented  with  a  couple  of  eyes 
that  must  have  worn  a  very  joyous  expression  at  one 
time,  for  they  sparkled  yet.  The  man  was  sixty,  by 
years,  and  Heaven  knows  how  old  by  imprisonment, 
so  that  his  having  any  look  approaching  to  mirth  or 
contentment,  was  singular  enough.  He  was  a  little 
man,  and,  being  half  doubled  up  as  he  lay  in  bed, 
looked  about  as  long  as  he  ought  to  have  been  without 
his  legs.  He  had  a  great  red  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and 
was  smoking,  and  staring  at  the  rushlight,  in  a  state 
of  enviable  placidity. 

'Have  you  been  here  long?'  inquired  Sam,  breaking 
the  silence  which  had  lasted  for  some  time. 

'Twelve  year,'  replied  the  cobbler,  biting  the  end 
of  his  pipe  as  he  spoke. 

'Contempt?'  inquired  Sam. 

The  cobbler  nodded. 

'Well,  then,'  said  Sam,  with  some  sternness,  'wot 
do  you  persevere  in  bein'  obstinit  for,  vastin'  your 
precious  life  away,  in  this  here  magnified  pound? 
Wy  don't  you  give  in,  and  tell  the  Chancellorship  that 
you  're  wery  sorry  for  makin'  his  court  contemptible, 
and  you  won't  do  so  no  more  ?' 

The  cobbler  put  his  pipe  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth, 
while  he  smiled,  and  then  brought  it  back  to  its  old 
place  again ;  but  said  nothing. 

'Wy  don't  you?'  said  Sam,  urging  his  question 
strenuously. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  283 

'Ah,'  said  the  cobbler,  'you  don't  quite  understand 
these   matters.     What   do  you  suppose  ruined  me 
now?' 

'Wy,'  said  Sam,  trimming  the  rushlight,  'I  s'pose 
the  begmnin'  wos,  that  you  got  into  debt,  eh?' 

|Never  owed  a  farden,'  said  the  cobbler;  'try  again.' 

'Well,  perhaps,'  said  Sam,  'you  bought  houses,  wich 
is  delicate  English  for  goin'  mad:  or  took  to  buildin', 
wich  is  a  medical  term  for  bein'  incurable.' 

The  cobbler  shook  his  head  and  said,  'Try  again.' 

'You  didn't  go  to  law,  I  hope?'  said  Sam,  sus- 
piciously. 

'Never  in  my  life,'  replied  the  cobbler.  'The  fact 
is,  I  was  ruined  by  having  money  left  me.' 

'Come,  come,'  said  Sam,  'that  von't  do.  I  wish 
some  rich  enemy  'ud  try  to  vork  my  destruction  in  that 
'ere  vay.  I  'd  let  him.' 

'Oh,  I  dare  say  you  don't  believe  it,'  said  the  cob- 
bler, quietly  smoking  his  pipe.  'I  wouldn't  if  I  was 
you :  but  it 's  true  for  all  that.' 

'How  wos  it?'  inquired  Sam,  half  induced  to  be- 
lieve the  fact  already,  by  the  look  the  cobbler  gave  him. 

'Just  this,'  replied  the  cobbler;  'an  old  gentleman 
that  I  worked  for,  down  in  the  country,  and  a  humble 
relation  of  whose  I  married — she  's  dead,  God  bless 
her,  and  thank  Him  for  it ! — was  seized  with  a  fit  and 
went  off.' 

'Where?'  inquired  Sam,  who  was  growing  sleepy 
after  the  numerous  events  of  the  day. 

'How  should  I  know  where  he  went?'  said  the  cob- 
bler, speaking  through  his  nose  in  an  intense  enjoy- 
ment of  his  pipe.  'He  went  off  dead.' 

'Oh,  that  indeed/  said  Sam.     'Well  ?' 

'Well,'  said  the  cobbler,  'he  left  five  thousand  pound 
behind  him.' 

'And  wery  gen-teel  in  him  so  to  do,'  said  Sam. 


284  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'One  of  which,'  continued  the  cobbler,  'he  left  to 
me,  'cause  I  'd  married  his  relation,  you  see.' 

'Wery  good,'  murmured  Sam. 

'And  being  surrounded  by  a  great  number  of  nieces 
and  nevys,  as  was  always  a  quarrelling  and  fighting 
among  themselves  for  the  property,  he  makes  me  his 
executor,  and  leaves  the  rest  to  me :  in  trust,  to  divide 
it  among  'em  as  the  will  prowided.' 

'Wot  do  you  mean  by  leavin'  it  on  trust?'  inquired 
Sam,  waking  up  a  little.  'If  it  ain't  ready  money, 
where  's  the  use  on  it  ?' 

'It 's  a  law  term,  that 's  all,'  said  the  cobbler. 

'I  don't  think  that,'  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head. 
'There  's  wery  little  trust  at  that  shop.  Hows'ever, 
go  on.' 

'Well,'  said  the  cobbler :  'when  I  was  going  to  take 
out  a  probate  of  the  will,  the  nieces  and  nevys,  who 
was  desperately  disappointed  at  not  getting  all  the 
money,  enters  a  caveat  against  it.' 

'What 's  that  ?'  inquired  Sam. 

'A  legal  instrument,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  it 's 
no  go,'  replied  the  cobbler. 

'I  see,'  said  Sam,  'a  sort  of  brother-in-law  o'  the 
have-his-carcase.  Well.' 

'But,'  continued  the  cobbler,  'finding  that  they 
couldn't  agree  among  themselves,  and  consequently 
couldn't  get  up  a  case  against  the  will,  they  withdrew 
the  caveat,  and  I  paid  all  the  legacies.  I  'd  hardly 
done  it,  when  one  nevy  brings  an  action  to  set  the  will 
aside.  The  case  comes  on,  some  months  afterwards, 
afore  a  deaf  old  gentleman,  in  a  back-room  some- 
where down  by  Paul's  Churchyard;  and  arter  four* 
counsels  had  taken  a  day  a-piece  to  bother  him  regu- 
larly, he  takes  a  week  or  two  to  consider,  and  read  the 
evidence  in  six  vollums,  and  then  gives  his  judgment 
that  how  the  testator  was  not  quite  right  in  his  head. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  285 

and  I  must  pay  all  the  money  back  again,  and  all  the 
costs.  I  appealed;  the  case  come  on  before  three  or 
four  very  sleepy  gentlemen,  who  had  heard  it  all  be- 
fore in  the  other  court,  where  they  're  lawyers  with- 
out work;  the  only  difference  being,  tliat,  there, 
they  're  called  doctors,  and  in  other  places  delegates, 
if  you  understand  that;  and  they  very  dutifully  con- 
firmed the  decision  of  the  old  gentleman  below. 
After  that,  we  went  into  Chancery,  where  we  are 
still,  arid  where  I  shall  always  be.  My  lawyers  have 
had  all  my  thousand  pound  long  ago;  and  what  be- 
tween the  estate,  as  they  call  it,  and  the  costs,  I  'm 
here  for  ten  thousand,  and  shall  stop  here,  till  I  die, 
mending  shoes.  Some  gentlemen  have  talked  of 
bringing  it  afore  Parliament,  and  I  dare  say  would 
have  done  it,  only  they  hadn't  time  to  come  to  me,  and 
I  hadn't  power  to  go  to  them,  and  they  got  tired  of 
my  long  letters,  and  dropped  the  business.  And  this 
is  God's  truth,  without  one  word  of  suppression  or 
exaggeration,  as  fifty  people,  both  in  this  place  and 
out  of  it,  very  well  know.' 

The  cobbler  paused  to  ascertain  what  effect  this 
story  had  produced  on  Sam;  but  finding  that  he  had 
dropped  asleep,  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe, 
sighed,  put  it  down,  drew  the  bed-clothes  over  his 
head,  and  went  to  sleep  too. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sitting  at  breakfast,  alone,  next 
morning  ( Sam  being  busily  engaged  in  the  cobbler's 
room,  polishing  his  master's  shoes  and  brushing  the 
black  gaiters)  when  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door, 
which,  before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  cry  'Come  in!'  was 
followed  by  the  appearance  of  a  head  of  hair  and  a 
cotton-velvet  cap,  both  of  which  articles  of  dress  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  as  the  personal  prop- 
erty of  Mr.  Smangle. 

'How  are  you?'  said  that  worthy,  accompanying  the 


286  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

inquiry  with  a  score  or  two  of  nods;  'I  say — do  you 
expect  anybody  this  morning?  Three  men — devilish 
gentlemanly  fellows — have  been  asking  after  you 
downstairs,  and  knocking  at  every  door  on  the  Hall 
flight;  for  which  they  Ve  been  most  infernally  blown 
up  by  the  collegians  that  had  the  trouble  of  opening 
'em/ 

'Dear  me!  How  very  foolish  of  them,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  rising.  'Yes;  I  have  no  doubt  they  are 
some  friends  whom  I  rather  expected  to  see  yesterday.' 

'Friends  of  yours!'  exclaimed  Smangle,  seizing  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  hand.  'Say  no  more.  Curse  me, 
they  're  friends  of  mine  from  this  minute,  and  friends 
of  Mivins's  too.  Infernal  pleasant,  gentlemanly  dog, 
Mivins,  isn't  he?'  said  Smangle,  with  great  feeling. 

'I  know  so  little  of  the  gentleman,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, hesitating,  'that  I — ' 

'I  know  you  do,'  interposed  Smangle,  clasping  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  shoulder.  'You  shall  know  him  bet- 
ter. You  '11  be  delighted  with  him.  That  man,  sir,' 
said  Smangle,  with  a  solemn  countenance,  'has  comic 
powers  that  would  do  honour  to  Drury  Lane  Theatre.' 

'Has  he  indeed?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Ah,  by  Jove  he  has !'  replied  Smangle.  'Hear  him 
come  the  four  cats  in  the  wheelbarrow — four  distinct 
cats,  sir,  I  pledge  you  my  honour.  Now  you  know 
that 's  infernal  clever !  Damme,  you  can't  help  lik- 
ing a  man,  when  you  see  these  traits  about  him.  He  's 
only  one  fault — that  little  failing  I  mentioned  to  you, 
you  know.' 

As  Mr.  Smangle  shook  his  head  in  a  confidential 
and  sympathising  manner  at  this  juncture,  Mr.  Pick-' 
wick  felt  that  he  was  expected  to  say  something,  so 
he  said  'Ah !'  and  looked  restlessly  at  the  door. 

'Ah !'  echoed  Mr.  Smangle,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh. 
'He  's  delightful  company,  that  man  is,  sir.  I  don't 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  287 

know  better  company  anywhere;  but  he  has  that  one 
drawback.  If  the  ghost  of  his  grandfather,  sir,  was 
to  rise  before  him  this  minute,  he  'd  ask  him  for  the 
loan  of  his  acceptance  on  an  eighteenpenny  stamp.' 

'Dear  me!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes,'  added  Mr.  Smangle ;  'and  if  he  'd  the  power 
of  raising  him  again,  he  would,  in  two  months  and 
three  days  from  this  time,  to  renew  the  bill!' 

'Those  are  very  remarkable  traits,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; 'but  I  'm  afraid  that  while  we  are  talking  here, 
my  friends  may  be  in  a  state  of  great  perplexity  at 
not  finding  me.' 

'I  '11  show  'em  the  way,'  said  Smangle  making  for 
the  door.  'Good  day.  I  won't  disturb  you  while 
they  're  here,  you  know.  By  the  bye— 

As  Smangle  pronounced  the  last  three  words,  he 
stopped  suddenly,  re-closed  the  door  which  he  had 
opened,  and,  walking  softly  back  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
stepped  close  up  to  him  on  tip-toe,  and  said  in  a  very 
soft  whisper— 

'You  couldn't  make  it  convenient  to  lend  me  half- 
a-crown  till  the  latter  end  of  next  week,  could  you?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  scarcely  forbear  smiling,  but 
managing  to  preserve  his  gravity,  he  drew  forth  the 
coin,  and  placed  it  in  Mr.  Smangle's  palm;  upon 
which,  that  gentleman,  with  many  nods  and  winks, 
implying  profound  mystery,  disappeared  in  quest  of 
the  three  strangers,  with  whom  he  presently  returned; 
and  having  coughed  thrice,  and  nodded  as  many  times, 
as  an  assurance  to  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  would  not 
forget  to  pay,  he  shook  hands  all  round,  in  an  engag- 
ing manner,  and  at  length  took  himself  off. 

'My  dear  friends,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  shaking 
hands  alternately  with  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  were  the  three  visitors  in  ques- 
tion, 'I  am  delighted  to  see  you.' 


288  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  triumvirate  were  much  affected.  Mr.  Tup- 
man  shook  his  head  deploringly ;  Mr.  Snodgrass  drew 
forth  his  handkerchief,  with  undisguised  emotion ;  and 
Mr.  Winkle  retired  to  the  window,  and  sniffed  aloud. 

'Mornin',  genTm'n,'  said  Sam,  entering  at  the  mo- 
ment with  the  shoes  and  gaiters.  'Avay  vith  melin- 
cholly,  as  the  little  boy  said  ven  his  school-missis  died. 
Velcome  to  the  College,  genTm'n.' 

'This  foolish  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  tapping 
Sam  on  the  head  as  he  knelt  down  to  button  up  his 
master's  gaiters;  'this  foolish  fellow  has  got  himself 
arrested,  in  order  to  be  near  me.' 

'What!'  exclaimed  the  three  friends. 

'Yes,  genTm'n,'  said  Sam,  'I  'm  a — stand  steady, 
sir,  if  you  please — I  'm  a  pris'ner,  genTm'n.  Con- 
fined, as  the  lady  said.' 

'A  prisoner!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  with  unac- 
countable vehemence. 

'Hallo,  sir!'  responded  Sam,  looking  up.  'Wot 's 
the  matter,  sir?' 

'I  had  hoped,  Sam,  that —  Nothing,  nothing,'  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  precipitately. 

There  was  something  so  very  abrupt  and  unsettled 
in  Mr.  Winkle's  manner,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  involun- 
tarily looked  at  his  two  friends,  for  an  explanation. 

'We  don't  know,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  answering  this 
mute  appeal  aloud.  'He  has  been  much  excited  for 
two  days  past,  and  his  whole  demeanour  very  unlike 
what  it  usually  is.  We  feared  there  must  be  some- 
thing the  matter,  but  he  resolutely  denies  it.' 

'No,  no,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  colouring  beneath  Mr.. 
Pickwick's  gaze;  'there  is  really  nothing.  I  assure 
you  there  is  nothing,  my  dear  sir.  It  will  be  neces- 
sary for  me  to  leave  town,  for  a  short  time,  on  private 
business,  and  I  had  hoped  to  have  prevailed  upon  you 
to  allow  Sam  to  accompany  me.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  289 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  more  astonished  than  before 

'I  think,'  faltered  Mr.  Winkle,  'that  Sam  would 

have  had  no  objection  to  do  so;  but,  of  course,  his 

being  a  prisoner  here,  renders  it  impossible.     So  I 

must  go  alone.' 

As  Mr.  Winkle  said  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt, 
with  some  astonishment,  that  Sam's  fingers  were 
trembling  at  the  gaiters,  as  if  he  were  rather  surprised 
or  startled.  Sam  looked  up  at  Mr.  Winkle,  too,  when 
he  had  finished  speaking;  and  though  the  glance  they 
exchanged  was  instantaneous,  they  seemed  to  under- 
stand each  other. 

'Do  you  know  anything  of  this,  Sam?'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  sharply. 

'No,  I  don't,  sir/  replied  Mr.  Weller,  beginning  to 
button  with  extraordinary  assiduity. 

'Are  you  sure,  Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

' Wy,  sir/  responded  Mr.  Weller ;  'I  'm  sure  so  far, 
that  I  've  never  heerd  any  thin'  on  the  subject  afore 
this  moment.  If  I  makes  any  guess  about  it/  added 
Sam,  looking  at  Mr.  Winkle,  'I  haven't  got  any  right 
to  say  what  it  is,  'fear  it  should  be  a  wrong  'un.' 

'I  have  no  right  to  make  any  further  inquiry  into 
the  private  affairs  of  a  friend,  however  intimate  a 
friend/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  short  silence;  'at 
present  let  me  merely  say,  that  I  do  not  understand 
this  at  all.  There.  We  have  had  quite  enough  of 
the  subject.' 

Thus  expressing  himself,  Mr.  Pickwick  led  the  con- 
versation to  different  topics,  and  Mr.  Winkle  grad- 
ually appeared  more  at  ease,  though  still  far  from 
being  completely  so.  They  had  all  so  much  to  con- 
verse about,  that  the  morning  very  quickly  passed 
away;  and  when,  at  three  o'clock,  Mr.  Weller  pro- 
duced upon  the  little  dining  table,  a  roast  leg  of 
mutton,  and  an  enormous  meat  pie,  with  sundry  dishes 


290  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

of  vegetables,  and  pots  of  porter,  which  stood  upon 
the  chairs  or  the  sofa-bedstead,  or  where  they  could, 
everybody  felt  disposed  to  do  justice  to  the  meal, 
notwithstanding  that  the  meat  had  been  purchased, 
and  dressed,  and  the  pie  made,  and  baked,  at  the  prison 
cookery  hard  by. 

To  these,  succeeded  a  bottle  or  two  of  very  good 
wine,  for  which  a  messenger  was  despatched  by  Mr. 
Pickwick  to  the  Horn  Coffee-house,  in  Doctors'  Com- 
mons. The  bottle  or  two,  indeed,  might  be  more 
properly  described  as  a  bottle  or  six,  for  by  the  time 
it  was  drunk,  and  tea  over,  the  bell  began  to  ring  for 
strangers  to  withdraw. 

But,  if  Mr.  Winkle's  behaviour  had  been  unac- 
countable in  the  morning,  it  became  perfectly  un- 
earthly and  solemn  when,  under  the  influence  of  his 
feelings,  and  his  share  of  the  bottle  or  six,  he  pre- 
pared to  take  leave  of  his  friend.  He  lingered  be- 
hind, until  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had 
disappeared,  and  then  fervently  clenched  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's hand,  with  an  expression  of  face  in  which  deep 
and  mighty  resolve  was  fearfully  blended  with  the 
very  concentrated  essence  of  gloom. 

'Good  night,  my  dear  sir !'  said  Mr.  Winkle  between 
his  set  teeth. 

'Bless  you,  my  dear  fellow!'  replied  the  warm- 
hearted Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  returned  the  pressure  of 
his  young  friend's  hand. 

'Now  then !'  cried  Mr.  Tupman  from  the  gallery. 

'Yes,  yes,  directly,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  'Good 
night!' 

'Good  night,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

There  was  another  good  night,  and  another,  and 
half  a  dozen  more  after  that,  and  still  Mr.  Winkle 
had  fast  hold  of  his  friend's  hand,  and  was  looking 
into  his  face  with  the  same  strange  expression. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  291 

rls  anything  the  matter?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  at  last, 
when  his  arm  was  quite  sore  with  shaking. 

'Nothing,'  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Well  then,  good  night,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at- 
tempting to  disengage  his  hand. 

'My  friend,  my  benefactor,  my  honoured  compan- 
ion,' murmured  Mr.  Winkle,  catching  at  his  wrist. 
'Do  not  judge  me  harshly;  do  not,  when  you  hear 
that,  driven  to  extremity  by  hopeless  obstacles,  I — ' 

'Now  then,'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  reappearing  at  the 
door.  'Are  you  coming,  or  are  we  to  be  locked  in?' 

'Yes,  yes,  I  am  ready,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  And 
with  a  violent  effort  he  tore  himself  away. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  was  gazing  down  the  passage 
after  them  in  silent  astonishment,  Sam  Weller  ap- 
peared at  the  stair-head,  and  whispered  for  one  mo- 
ment in  Mr.  Winkle's  ear. 

'Oh  certainly,  depend  upon  me,'  said  that  gentle- 
man aloud. 

'Thank  'ee,  sir.     You  won't  forget,  sir?'  said  Sam. 

'Of  course  not,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

'Wish  you  luck,  sir,'  said  Sam,  touching  his  hat. 
'I  should  very  much  liked  to  ha'  joined  you,  sir;  but 
the  gov'ner  o'  course  is  pairamount.' 

'It  is  very  much  to  your  credit  that  you  remain 
here,'  said  Mr.  Winkle.  With  these  words  they  dis- 
appeared down  the  stairs. 

'Very  extraordinary,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  going 
back  into  his  room,  and  seating  himself  at  the  table 
in  a  musing  attitude.  'What  can  that  young  man  be 
going  to  do?' 

He  had  sat  ruminating  about  the  matter  for  some 
time,  when  the  voice  of  Roker,  the  turnkey,  demanded 
whether  he  might  come  in. 

'By  all  means,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  Ve  brought  you  a  softer  pillow,  sir,*  said  Roker, 


292  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'instead  of  the  temporary  one  you  had  last  night.' 

'Thank  you,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Will  you  take 
a  glass  of  wine?' 

'You  're  wery  good,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Roker,  accept- 
ing the  proffered  glass.  'Yours,  sir.' 

'Thank  you,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  'm  sorry  to  say  that  your  landlord  's  wery  bad 
to-night,  sir,'  said  Roker,  setting  down  the  glass,  and 
inspecting  the  lining  of  his  hat  preparatory  to  putting 
it  on  again. 

'What!  The  Chancery  prisoner!'  exclaimed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'He  won't  be  a  Chancery  prisoner  wery  long,  sir,' 
replied  Roker,  turning  his  hat  round,  so  as  to  get  the 
maker's  name  right  side  upwards,  as  he  looked  into  it. 

'You  make  my  blood  run  cold,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'What  do  you  mean?' 

'He  's  been  consumptive  for  a  long  time  past,'  said 
Mr.  Roker,  'and  he  's  taken  wery  bad  in  the  breath 
to-night.  The  doctor  said,  six  months  ago,  that 
nothing  but  change  of  air  could  save  him.' 

'Great  Heaven!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick;  'has  this 
man  been  slowly  murdered  by  the  law  for  six  months !' 

'I  don't  know  about  that,'  replied  Roker,  weighing 
the  hat  by  the  brims  in  both  hands.  'I  suppose  he  'd 
have  been  took  the  same,  wherever  he  was.  He  went 
into  the  infirmary,  this  morning;  the  doctor  says  his 
strength  is  to  be  kept  up  as  much  as  possible ;  and  the 
warden  's  sent  him  wine  and  broth  and  that,  from  his 
own  house.  It 's  not  the  warden's  fault,  you  know, 
sir.' 

'Of  course  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily. 

'I  'm  afraid,  however,'  said  Roker,  shaking  his 
head,  'that  it 's  all  up  with  him.  I  offered  Neddy 
two  six  penn'orths  to  one  upon  it  just  now,  but  he 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  293 

wouldn't  take  it,  and  quite  right.  Thank 'ee,  sir. 
Good  night,  sir.' 

^Stay,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly.  'Where  is 
this  infirmary?' 

'Just  over  where  you  slept,  sir/  replied  Roker. 
'I  '11  show  you,  if  you  like  to  come.'  Mr.  Pickwick 
snatched  up  his  hat  without  speaking,  and  followed 
at  once. 

The  turnkey  led  the  way  in  silence;  and  gently 
raising  the  latch  of  the  room  door,  motioned  Mr.  Pick- 
wick to  enter.  It  was  a  large,  bare,  desolate  room, 
with  a  number  of  stump  bedsteads  made  of  iron;  on 
one  of  which  lay  stretched,  the  shadow  of  a  man ;  wan, 
pale,  and  ghastly.  His  breathing  was  hard  and  thick, 
and  he  moaned  painfully  as  it  came  and  went.  At 
the  bedside,  sat  a  short  old  man  in  a  cobbler's  apron, 
who,  by  the  aid  of  a  pair  of  horn  spectacles,  was  read- 
ing from  the  Bible  aloud.  It  was  the  fortunate 
legatee. 

The  sick  man  laid  his  hand  upon  his  attendant's 
arm,  and  motioned  him  to  stop.  He  closed  the  book, 
and  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

'Open  the  window,'  said  the  sick  man. 

He  did  so.  The  noise  of  carriages  and  carts,  the 
rattle  of  wheels,  the  cries  of  men  and  boys,  all  the 
busy  sounds  of  a  mighty  multitude  instinct  with  life 
and  occupation,  blended  into  one  deep  murmur, 
floated  into  the  room.  Above  the  hoarse  loud  hum, 
arose,  from  time  to  time,  a  boisterous  laugh ;  or  a  scrap 
of  some  jingling  song,  shouted  forth  by  one  of  the 
giddy  crowd,  would  strike  upon  the  ear,  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  be  lost  amidst  the  roar  of  voices  and 
the  tramp  of  footsteps;  the  breaking  of  the  billows 
of  the  restless  sea  of  life,  that  rolled  heavily  on,  with- 
out. Melancholy  sounds  to  a  quiet  listener  at  any 


294  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

time;  how  melancholy  to  the  watcher  by  the  bed  of 
death! 

'There  is  no  air  here,'  said  the  sick  man  faintly. 
'The  place  pollutes  it.  It  was  fresh  round  about, 
when  I  walked  there,  years  ago ;  but  it  grows  hot  and 
heavy  in  passing  these  walls.  I  cannot  breathe  it.' 

'We  have  breathed  it  together,  for  a  long  time,'  said 
the  old  man.  'Come,  come.' 

There  was  a  short  silence,  during  which  the  two 
spectators  approached  the  bed.  The  sick  man  drew 
a  hand  of  his  old  fellow-prisoner  towards  him,  and 
pressing  it  affectionately  between  both  his  own,  re- 
tained it  in  his  grasp. 

'I  hope,'  he  gasped  after  a  while:  so  faintly  that 
they  bent  their  ears  close  over  the  bed  to  catch  the 
half- formed  sounds  his  pale  lips  gave  vent  to :  'I  hope 
my  merciful  Judge  will  bear  in  mind  my  heavy  pun- 
ishment on  earth.  Twenty  years,  my  friend,  twenty 
years  in  this  hideous  grave!  My  heart  broke  when 
my  child  died,  and  I  could  not  even  kiss  him  in  his 
little  coffin.  My  loneliness  since  then,  in  all  this  noise 
and  riot,  has  been  very  dreadful.  May  God  forgive 
me!  He  has  seen  my  solitary,  lingering  death.' 

He  folded  his  hands,  and  murmuring  something 
more  they  could  not  hear,  fell  into  a  sleep — only  a 
sleep  at  first,  for  they  saw  him  smile. 

They  whispered  together  for  a  little  time,  and  the 
turnkey,  stooping  over  the  pillow,  drew  hastily  back. 
'He  has  got  his  discharge,  by  G — !'  said  the  man. 

He  had.  But  he  had  grown  so  like  death  in  life, 
that  they  knew  not  when  he  died. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  295 


CHAPTER  XLV 

DESCRIPTIVE  OF  AN  AFFECTING  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN 
MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER  AND  A  FAMILY  PARTY.  MR. 
'PICKWICK  MAKES  A  TOUR  OF  THE  DIMINUTIVE 
WORLD  HE  INHABITS,  AND  RESOLVES  TO  MIX  WI  HI 
IT,  IN  FUTURE,  AS  LITTLE  AS  POSSIBLE. 

A  FEW  mornings  after  his  incarceration,  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  having  arranged  his  master's  room  with  all 
possible  care,  and  seen  him  comfortably  seated  over 
his  books  and  papers,  withdrew  to  employ  himself 
for  an  hour  or  two  to  come,  as  he  best  could.  It  was 
a  fine  morning,  and  it  occurred  to  Sam  that  a  pint 
of  porter  in  the  open  air  would  lighten  his  next 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  as  well  as  any  little  amuse- 
ment in  which  he  could  indulge. 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  he  betook  him- 
self to  the  tap.  Having  purchased  the  beer,  and 
obtained,  moreover,  the  day-but-one-before-yester- 
day's  paper,  he  repaired  to  the  skittle-ground,  and 
seating  himself  on  a  bench,  proceeded  to  enjoy  him- 
self in  a  very  sedate  and  methodical  manner. 

First  of  all,  he  took  a  refreshing  draught  of  the 
beer,  and  then  he  looked  up  at  a  window,  and  be- 
stowed a  Platonic  wink  on  a  young  lady  who  was 
peeling  potatoes  thereat.  Then  he  opened  the  paper, 
and  folded  it  so  as  to  get  the  police  reports  outwards ; 
and  this  being  a  vexatious  and  difficult  thing  to  do, 
when  there  is  any  wind  stirring,  he  took  another 
draught  of  the  beer  when  he  had  accomplished  it. 
Then,  he  read  two  lines  of  the  paper,  and  stopped 
short,  to  look  at  a  couple  of  men  who  were  finishing 
a  game  at  rackets,  which  being  concluded,  he  cried 
out  'wery  good'  in  an  approving  manner,  and  looked 


296  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

round  upon  the  spectators,  to  ascertain  whether  their 
sentiments  coincided  with  his  own.  This  involved  the 
necessity  of  looking  up  at  the  windows  also;  and  as 
the  young  lady  was  still  there,  it  was  an  act  of  com- 
mon politeness  to  wink  again,  and  to  drink  to  her 
good  health  in  dumb  show,  in  another  draught  of  the 
beer,  which  Sam  did;  and  having  frowned  hideously 
upon  a  small  boy  who  had  noted  this  latter  proceeding 
with  open  eyes,  he  threw  one  leg  over  the  other,  and, 
holding  the  newspaper  in  both  hands,  began  to  read 
in  real  earnest. 

He  had  hardly  composed  himself  into  the  needful 
state  of  abstraction,  when  he  thought  he  heard  his  own 
name  proclaimed  in  some  distant  passage.  Nor  was 
he  mistaken,  for  it  quickly  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  air  teemed  with  shouts 
of  'Weller!' 

'Here !'  roared  Sam,  in  a  stentorian  voice.  'Wot 's 
the  matter?  Who  wants  him?  Has  an  express  come 
to  say  that  his  country-house  is  afire  ?' 

*  Somebody  wants  you  in  the  hall,'  said  a  man  who 
was  standing  by. 

Must  mind  that  'ere  paper  and  the  pot,  old  feller, 
will  you?'  said  Sam.  'I  'm  a  comin'.  Blessed,  if 
they  was  a  callin*  me  to  the  bar,  they  couldn't  make 
more  noise  about  it!' 

Accompanying  these  words  with  a  gentle  rap  on 
the  head  of  the  young  gentleman  before  noticed,  who, 
unconscious  of  his  close  vicinity  to  the  person  in  re- 
quest, was  screaming  'Weller!'  with  all  his  might, 
Sam  hastened  across  the  ground,  and  ran  up  the  steps 
into  the  hall.  Here,  the  first  object  that  met  his  eyes 
was  his  beloved  father  sitting  on  a  bottom  stair,  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  shouting  out  'Weller !'  in  his  very 
loudest  tone,  at  half -minute  intervals. 

'Wot  are  you  a  roarin'  at?'  said  Sam  impetuously, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  297 

when  the  old  gentleman  had  discharged  himself  of 
another  shout;  'makin'  yourself  so  precious  hot  that 
you  looks  like  a  aggrawated  glass-blower.  Wot 's 
the  matter?' 

'Aha!'  replied  the  old  gentleman,  'I  began  to  be 
afeerd  that  you  'd  gone  for  a  walk  round  the 
Regency  Park,  Sammy.' 

'Come,'  said  Sam,  'none  o'  them  taunts  agin'  the 
wictim  o'  avarice,  and  come  off  that  'ere  step.  Wot 
aje  you  a  settin'  down  there  for?  I  don't  live  there.' 

'I  've  got  such  a  game  for  you,  Sammy,'  said  the 
elder  Mr.  Weller,  rising. 

'Stop  a  minit,'  said  Sam,  'you  're  all  vite  behind.' 

'That 's  right,  Sammy,  rub  it  off,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
as  his  son  dusted  him.  'It  might  look  personal  here, 
if  a  man  walked  about  with  whitevash  on  his  clothes, 
eh,  Sammy?' 

As  Mr.  Weller  exhibited  in  this  place  unequivocal 
symptoms  of  an  approaching  fit  of  chuckling,  Sam 
interposed  to  stop  it. 

'Keep  quiet,  do,'  said  Sam,  'there  never  vos  such  a 
old  picter-card  born.  Wot  are  you  bustin'  vith,  now  ?' 

'Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  wiping  his  forehead, 
'I  'm  afeerd  that  vun  o'  these  days  I  shall  laugh  my- 
self into  a  appleplexy,  my  boy.' 

'Veil,  then,  wot  do  you  do  it  for  ?'  said  Sam.  'Now ; 
wot  have  you  got  to  say?' 

'Who  do  you  think 's  come  here  with  me,  Samivel?' 
said  Mr.  Weller,  drawing  back  a  pace  or  two,  pursing 
up  his  mouth,  and  extending  his  eyebrows. 

'Pell?'  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  and  his  red  cheeks  ex- 
panded with  the  laughter  that  was  endeavouring  te 
find  a  vent. 

'Mottled-faced  man,  p'raps?'  suggested  Sam. 

Again  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head. 


298  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Who  then?'  asked  Sam. 

'Your  mother-in-law,'  said  Mr.  Weller;  and  it  was 
lucky  he  did  say  it,  or  his  cheeks  must  inevitably  have 
cracked,  from  their  most  unnatural  distension. 

'Your  mother-in-law,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
'and  the  red-nosed  man,  my  boy;  and  the  red-nosed 
man.  Ho!  ho!  ho!' 

With  this,  Mr.  Weller  launched  into  convulsions 
of  laughter,  while  Sam  regarded  him  with  a  broad 
grin  gradually  overspreading  his  whole  countenance. 

'They  Ve  come  to  have  a  little  serious  talk  with  you, 
Samivel,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  wiping  his  eyes.  'Don't 
let  out  nothin'  about  the  unnat'ral  creditor,  Sammy.' 

'Wot,  don't  they  know  who  it  is?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Not  a  bit  on  it,'  replied  his  father. 

'Vere  are  they?'  said  Sam,  reciprocating  all  the  old 
gentleman's  grins. 

'In  the  snuggery,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  'Catch 
the  red-nosed  man  a  goin'  anyvere  but  vere  the  liquors 
is ;  not  he,  Samivel,  not  he.  Ve  'd  a  wery  pleasant 
ride  along  the  road  from  the  Markis  this  mornin', 
Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  felt  himself  equal 
to  the  task  of  speaking  in  an  articulate  manner.  'I 
drove  the  old  piebald  in  that  'ere  little  shay-cart  as 
belonged  to  your  mother-in-law's  first  wenter,  into 
vich  a  harm-cheer  wos  lifted  for  the  shepherd;  and 
I  'm  blest,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  look  of  deep 
scorn :  'I  'm  blest  if  they  didn't  bring  a  portable  flight 
o'  steps  out  into  the  road  a  front  o'  our  door,  for  him 
to  get  up  by.' 

'You  don't  mean  that?'  said  Sam. 

'I  do  mean  that,  Sammy,'  replied  his  father,  'and 
I  vish  you  could  ha'  seen  how  tight  he  held  on  by  the 
sides  wen  he  did  get  up,  as  if  he  wos  af  eerd  o'  being 
precipitayted  down  full  six  foot,  and  dashed  into  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  299 

million  o'  hatoms.  He  tumbled  in  at  last,  however, 
and  avay  ve  vent;  and  I  rayther  think,  I  say  I  rayther 
think,  Samivel,  that  he  found  his-self  a  little  jolted  ven 
ve  turned  the  corners.' 

'Wot,  I  s'pose  you  happened  to  drive  up  agin  a 
post  or  two?'  said  Sam. 

'I  'm  afeerd,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  rapture  of 
winks,  'I  'm  afeerd  I  took  vun  or  two  on  'em,  Sammy; 
he  wos  a  flyin'  out  o'  the  harm-cheer  all  the  way.' 

Here  the  old  gentleman  shook  his  head  from  side 
to  side,  and  was  seized  with  a  hoarse  internal  rumb- 
ling, accompanied  with  a  violent  swelling  of  counte- 
nance, and  a  sudden  increase  in  the  breadth  of  all  his 
features;  symptoms  which  alarmed  his  son  not  a 
little. 

'Don't  be  frightened,  Sammy,  don't  be  frightened,' 
said  the  old  gentleman,  when,  by  dint  of  much  strug- 
gling, and  various  convulsive  stamps  upon  the 
ground,  he  had  recovered  his  voice.  It 's  only  a  kind 
o'  quiet  laugh  as  I  'm  a  tryin'  to  come,  Sammy.' 

'Well,  if  that 's  wot  it  is,'  said  Sam,  'you  'd  better 
not  try  to  come  it  agin.  You  '11  find  it  rayther  a 
dangerous  inwention.' 

'Don't  you  like  it,  Sammy?'  inquired  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

'Not  at  all,'  replied  Sam. 

'Well/  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  tears  still  run- 
ning down  his  cheeks,  'it  'ud  ha'  been  a  wery  great 
accommodation  to  me  if  I  could  ha'  done  it,  and  'ud 
ha'  saved  a  good  many  vords  atween  your  mother-in- 
law  and  me,  sometimes;  but  I  am  afeerd  you  're  right, 
Sammy:  it 's  too  much  in  the  appleplexy  line — a  deal 
too  much,  Samivel.' 

This  conversation  brought  them  to  the  door  of  the 
snuggery,  into  which  Sam — pausing  for  an  instant 


300  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  look  over  his  shoulder,  and  cast  a  sly  leer  at  his 
respected  progenitor,  who  was  still  giggling  behind 
— at  once  led  the  way. 

'Mother-in-law,'  said  Sam,  politely  saluting  the 
lady,  'wery  much  obliged  to  you  for  this  here  wisit. 
Shepherd,  how  air  you?' 

'Oh,  Samuel!'  said  Mrs.  Weller.  'This  is  dread- 
ful.' 

'Not  a  bit  on  it,  mum,'  replied  Sam.  'Is  it,  shep- 
herd?' 

Mr.  Stiggins  raised  his  hands,  and  turned  up  his 
eyes,  till  the  whites — or  rather  the  yellows — were  alone 
visible;  but  made  no  reply  in  words. 

'Is  this  here  gen'l'm'n  troubled  vith  any  painful 
complaint?'  said  Sam,  looking  to  his  mother-in-law 
for  explanation. 

'The  good  man  is  grieved  to  see  you  here,  Samuel,' 
replied  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Oh,  that 's  it,  is  it?'  said  Sam.  'I  was  afeerd,  from 
his  manner,  that  he  might  ha'  forgotten  to  take  pep- 
per vith  that  'ere  last  cowcumber  he  eat.  Set  down, 
sir ;  ve  make  no  extra  charge  for  the  settin'  down,  as 
the  king  remarked  wen  he  blowed  up  his  ministers.' 

'Young  man,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  ostentatiously,  'I 
fear  you  are  not  softened  by  imprisonment.' 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  replied  Sam;  'wot  wos  you 
graciously  pleased  to  hobserve?' 

'I  apprehend,  young  man,  that  your  nature  is  no 
softer  for  this  chastening,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  a 
loud  voice. 

'Sir,'  replied  Sam,  'you  're  wery  kind  to  say  so. 
I  hope  my  natur  is  not  a  soft  vun,  sir.  Wery  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  good  opinion,  sir.' 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation,  a  sound,  indecor- 
ously approaching  to  a  laugh,  was  heard  to  proceed 
from  the  chair  in  which  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  was 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  301 

seated;  upon  which  Mrs.  Weller,  on  a  hasty  considera- 
tion of  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case*  considered 
it  her  bounden  duty  to  become  gradually  hysterical. 

'Weller,'  said  Mrs.  W.  (the  old  gentleman  was 
seated  in  a  corner)  ;  'Weller!  Come  forth.' 

'Wery  much  obleeged  to  you,  my  dear,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller;  'but  I  'm  quite  comfortable  vere  I  am.' 

Upon  this,  Mrs.  Weller  burst  into  tears. 

'Wot's  gone  wrong,  mum?'  said  Sam. 

'Oh,  Samuel!'  replied  Mrs.  Weller,  'your  father 
makes  me  wretched.  Will  nothing  do  him  good?' 

'Do  you  hear  this  here?'  said  Sam.  'Lady  wants 
to  know  vether  nothin'  'ull  do  you  good.' 

'Wery  much  indebted  to  Mrs.  Weller  for  her  po- 
lite inquiries,  Sammy,'  replied  the  old  gentleman. 
'I  think  a  pipe  vould  benefit  me  a  good  deal.  Could 
I  be  accommodated,  Sammy?' 

Here  Mrs.  Weller  let  fall  some  more  tears,  and 
Mr.  Stiggins  groaned. 

'Hallo!  Here  's  this  unfort'nate  gen'l'm'n  took  ill 
agin/  said  Sam  looking  round.  'Where  do  you  feel 
it  now,  sir?' 

'In  the  same  place,  young  man,'  rejoined  Mr.  Stig- 
gins :  'in  the  same  place.' 

'Where  may  that  be,  sir?'  inquired  Sam,  with  great 
outward  simplicity. 

'In  the  buzzim,  young  man,'  replied  Mr.  Stiggins, 
placing  his  umbrella  on  his  waistcoat. 

At  this  affecting  reply,  Mrs.  Weller,  being  wholly 
unable  to  suppress  her  feelings,  sobbed  aloud,  and 
stated  her  conviction  that  the  red-nosed  man  was  a 
saint;  whereupon  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  ventured  to  sug- 
gest, in  an  undertone,  that  he  must  be  the  representa- 
tive of  the  united  parishes  of  Saint  Simon  Without, 
and  St.  Walker  Within. 

'I'm   afeerd,    mum,'    said    Sam,    'that   this   here 


302  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

genTm'n,  with  the  twist  in  his  countenance,  feels 
rayther  thirsty,  with  the  melancholy  spectacle  afore 
him.  Is  it  the  case,  mum?' 

The  worthy  lady  looked  at  Mr.  Stiggins  for  a  re- 
ply; that  gentleman,  with  many  rollings  of  the  eye, 
clenched  his  throat  with  his  right  hand,  and  mimicked 
the  act  of  swallowing,  to  intimate  that  he  was  athirst. 

'I  am  afraid,  Samuel,  that  his  feelings  have  made 
him  so,  indeed,'  said  Mrs.  Weller,  mournfully. 

'Wot 's  your  usual  tap,  sir?'  replied  Sam. 

'Oh,  my  dear  young  friend,'  replied  Mr.  Stiggins, 
'all  taps  is  vanities!' 

'Too  true,  too  true,  indeed,'  said  Mrs.  Weller,  mur- 
muring a  groan,  and  shaking  her  head  assentingly. 

'Well,'  said  Sam,  'I  des-say  they  may  be,  sir;  but 
which  is  your  partickler  wanity  ?  Vich  wanity  do  you 
like  the  flavour  on  best,  sir?' 

'Oh,  my  dear  young  friend/  replied  Mr.  Stiggins, 
'I  despise  them  all.  If,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  'if  there 
is  any  one  of  them  less  odious  than  another,  it  is  the 
liquor  called  rum.  Warm,  my  dear  young  friend, 
with  three  lumps  of  sugar  to  the  tumbler.' 

'Wery  sorry  to  say,  sir,'  said  Sam,  'that  they  don't 
allow  that  particular  wanity  to  be  sold  in  this  here 
establishment.' 

'Oh,  the  hardness  of  heart  of  these  inveterate  men !' 
ejaculated  Mr.  Stiggins.  'Oh,  the  accursed  cruelty 
of  these  inhuman  persecutors  1' 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Stiggins  again  cast  up  his 
eyes,  and  rapped  his  breast  with  his  umbrella;  and  it 
is  but  justice  to  the  reverend  gentleman  to  say,  that 
his  indignation  appeared  very  real  and  unfeigned  in- 
deed. 

After  Mrs.  Weller  and  the  red-nosed  gentleman 
had  commented  on  this  inhuman  usage  in  a  very  f  orci- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  303 

ble  manner,  and  had  vented  a  variety  of  pious  and 
holy  execrations  against  its  authors,  the  latter  rec- 
ommended a  bottle  of  port  wine,  warmed  with  a  little 
water,  spice,  and  sugar,  as  being  grateful  to  the 
stomach,  and  savouring  less  of  vanity  than  many 
other  compounds.  It  was  accordingly  ordered  to  be 
prepared.  Pending  its  preparation  the  red-nosed 
man  and  Mrs.  Weller  looked  at  the  elder  W.  and 
groaned. 

'Well,  Sammy/  said  that  gentleman,  'I  hope  you  '11 
find  your  spirits  rose  by  this  here  lively  wisit.  Wery 
cheerful  and  improvin'  conwersation,  ain't  it, 
Sammy?' 

'You're  a  reprobate,'  replied  Sam;  'and  I  desire 
you  won't  address  no  more  o'  them  ungraceful  re- 
marks to  me.' 

So  far  from  being  edified  by  this  very  proper  reply, 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller  at  once  relapsed  into  a  broad 
grin;  and  this  inexorable  conduct  causing  the  lady 
and  Mr.  Stiggins  to  close  their  eyes,  and  rock  them- 
selves to  and  fro  on  their  chairs,  in  a  troubled  manner, 
he  furthermore  indulged  in  several  acts  of  panto- 
mime, indicative  of  a  desire  to  pummel  and  wring 
the  nose  of  the  aforesaid  Stiggins:  the  performance 
of  which,  appeared  to  afford  him  great  mental  relief. 
The  old  gentleman  very  narrowly  escaped  detection 
in  one  instance ;  for  Mr.  Stiggins  happening  to  give 
a  start  on  the  arrival  of  the  negus,  brought  his  head 
in  smart  contact  with  the  clenched  fist  with  which  Mr. 
Weller  had  been  describing  imaginary  fireworks  in 
the  air,  within  two  inches  of  his  ear,  for  some  minutes. 

'Wot  are  you  a  reachin'  out  your  hand  for  the 
tumbler  in  that  'ere  sawage  way  for?'  said  Sam,  with 
great  promptitude.  'Don't  you  see  you've  hit  the 
genTm'n?' 


304  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  didn't  go  to  do  it,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  in 
some  degree  abashed  by  the  very  unexpected  occur- 
rence of  the  incident. 

'Try  an  in'ard  application,  sir,'  said  Sam,  as  the 
red-nosed  gentleman  rubbed  his  head  with  a  rueful 
visage.  'Wot  do  you  think  o'  that,  for  a  go  o'  wanity 
warm,  sir?' 

Mr.  Stiggins  made  no  verbal  answer,  but  his  man- 
ner was  expressive.  He  tasted  the  contents  of  the 
glass  which  Sam  had  placed  in  his  hand ;  put  his  um- 
brella on  the  floor,  and  tasted  it  again:  passing  his 
hand  placidly  across  his  stomach  twice  or  thrice;  he 
then  drank  the  whole  at  a  breath,  and  smacking  his 
lips,  held  out  the  tumbler  for  more. 

Nor  was  Mrs.  Weller  behindhand  in  doing  justice 
to  the  composition.  The  good  lady  began  by  protest- 
ing that  she  couldn't  touch  a  drop — then  took  a  small 
drop — then  a  large  drop — then  a  great  many  drops; 
and  her  feelings  being  of  the  nature  of  those  sub- 
stances which  are  powerfully  affected  by  the  applica- 
tion of  strong  waters,  she  dropped  a  tear  with  every 
drop  of  negus,  and  so  got  on,  melting  the  feelings 
down,  until  at  length  she  had  arrived  at  a  very  pathetic 
and  decent  pitch  of  misery. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  observed  these  signs  and  to- 
kens with  many  manifestations  of  disgust,  and  when, 
after  a  second  jug  of  the  same,  Mr.  Stiggins  began 
to  sigh  in  a  dismal  manner,  he  plainly  evinced  his  dis- 
approbation of  the  whole  proceedings,  by  sundry  inco- 
herent ramblings  of  speech,  among  which  frequent 
angry  repetitions  of  the  word  'gammon'  were  alone 
distinguishable  to  the  ear. 

'I  '11  tell  you  wot  it  is,  Samivel,  my  boy,'  whispered 
the  old  gentleman  into  his  son's  ear,  after  a  long  and 
steadfast  contemplation  of  his  lady  and  Mr.  Stiggins ; 
'I  think  there  must  be  somethin'  wrong  in  your  mother- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  305 

in-law's  inside,  as  veil  as  in  that  o'  the  red-nosed  man.' 

'Wot  do  you  mean?'  said  Sam. 

'I  mean  this  here,  Sammy,'  replied  the  old  gentle- 
man, 'that  wot  they  drink,  don't  seem  no  nourishment 
to  'em;  it  all  turns  to  warm  water,  and  comes  a  pourin' 
out  o'  their  eyes.  'Pend  upon  it,  Sammy,  it 's  a  con- 
stitootional  infirmity.' 

Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  scientific  opinion  with 
many  confirmatory  frowns  and  nods;  which,  Mrs. 
Weller  remarking,  and  concluding  that  they  bore 
some  disparaging  reference  either  to  herself  or  to  Mr. 
Stiggins,  or  to  both,  was  on  the  point  of  becoming 
infinitely  worse,  when  Mr.  Stiggins,  getting  on  his 
legs  as  well  as  he  could,  proceeded  to  deliver  an  edify- 
ing discourse  for  the  benefit  of  the  company,  but  more 
especially  of  Mr.  Samuel,  whom  he  adjured  in  moving 
terms  to  be  upon  his  guard  in  that  sink  of  iniquity 
into  which  he  was  cast;  to  abstain  from  all  hypocrisy 
and  pride  of  heart;  and  to  take  in  all  things  exact 
pattern  and  copy  by  him  (Stiggins),  in  which  case 
he  might  calculate  on  arriving,  sooner  or  later,  at  the 
comfortable  conclusion,  that,  like  him,  he  was  a  most 
estimable  and  blameless  character,  and  that  all  his 
acquaintance  and  friends  were  hopelessly  abandoned 
and  profligate  wretches.  Which  consideration,  he 
said,  could  not  but  afford  him  the  liveliest  satisfaction. 

He  furthermore  conjured  him  to  avoid,  above  all 
things,  the  vice  of  intoxication,  which  he  likened  unto 
the  filthy  habits  of  swine,  and  to  those  poisonous  and 
baleful  drugs  which  being  chewed  in  the  mouth,  are 
said  to  filch  away  the  memory.  At  this  point  of  his 
discourse,  the  reverend  and  red-nosed  gentleman  be- 
came singularly  incoherent,  and  staggering  to  and  fro 
in  the  excitement  of  his  eloquence,  was  fain  to  catch 
at  the  back  of  a  chair  to  preserve  his  perpendicular. 

Mr.  Stiggins  did  not  desire  his  hearers  to  be  upon 


306  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

their  guard  against  those  false  prophets  and  wretched 
mockers  of  religion,  who,  without  sense  to  expound  its 
first  doctrines,  or  hearts  to  feel  its  first  principles,  are 
more  dangerous  members  of  society  than  the  common 
criminal;  imposing,  as  they  necessarily  do,  upon  the 
weakest  and  worst-informed,  casting  scorn  and  con- 
tempt on  what  should  be  held  most  sacred,  and  bring- 
ing into  partial  disrepute  large  bodies  of  virtuous  and 
well-conducted  persons  of  many  excellent  sects  and 
persuasions.  But  as  he  leant  over  the  back  of  the 
chair  for  a  considerable  time,  and  closing  one  eye, 
winked  a  good  deal  with  the  other,  it  is  presumed  that 
he  thought  all  this,  but  kept  it  to  himself. 

During  the  delivery  of  the  oration,  Mrs.  Weller 
sobbed  and  wept  at  the  end  of  the  paragraphs :  while 
Sam,  sitting  cross-legged  on  a  chair  and  resting  his 
arms  on  the  top-rail,  regarded  the  speaker  with  great 
suavity  and  blandness  of  demeanour ;  occasionally  be- 
stowing a  look  of  recognition  on  the  old  gentleman, 
who  was  delighted  at  the  beginning,  and  went  to  sleep 
about  half-way. 

'Brayvo;  wery  pretty!'  said  Sam,  when  the  red- 
nosed  man,  having  finished,  pulled  his  worn  gloves 
on:  thereby  thrusting  his  fingers  through  the  broken 
tops  till  the  knuckles  were  disclosed  to  view.  'Wery 
pretty.' 

'I  hope  it  may  do  you  good,  Samuel,'  said  Mrs. 
Weller  solemnly. 

'I  think  it  vill,  mum,'  replied  Sam. 

'I  wish  I  could  hope  that  it  would  do  your  father 
good,'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Thank  'ee,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior.* 
'How  do  you  find  yourself  arter  it,  my  love  ?' 

'Scoffer!'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Weller. 

'Benighted  man !'  said  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins. 

'If  I  don't  get  no  better  light  than  that  'ere  moon- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  307 

shine  o'  your'n,  my  worthy  creetur,'  said  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller,  'it 's  wery  likely  as  I  shall  continey  to  be 
a  night  coach  till  I  'm  took  off  the  road  altogether. 
Now,  Mrs.  We,  if  the  piehald  stands  at  livery  much 
longer,  he  '11  stand  at  nothin'  as  we  go  back,  and  p'raps 
that  'ere  harm-cheer  'ull  be  tipped  over  into  some 
hedge  or  another,  with  the  shepherd  in  it.' 

At  this  supposition,  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins,  in 
evident  consternation,  gathered  up  his  hat  and  um- 
brella, and  proposed  an  immediate  departure,  to  which 
Mrs.  Weller  assented.  Sam  walked  with  them  to  the 
lodge-gate,  and  took  a  dutiful  leave. 

'A-do,  Samivel,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

'Wot 's  a-do  ?'  inquired  Sammy. 

'Well,  good-bye,  then,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

'Oh,  that 's  wot  you  're  a  aimin'  at,  is  it?'  said  Sam. 
'Good-bye!'  <l 

'Sammy,'  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  looking  cautiously 
round;  'my  duty  to  your  gov'ner,  and  tell  him  if  he 
thinks  better  o'  this  here  bis'ness,  to  commoonicate 
vith  me.  Me  and  a  cab'net-maker  has  dewised  a  plan 
for  gettin'  him  out.  A  pianner,  Samivel,  a  pianner!' 
said  Mr.  Weller,  striking  his  son  on  the  chest  with  the 
back  of  his  hand,  and  falling  back  a  step  or  two. 

'Wot  do  you  mean?'  said  Sam. 

'A  pianner  forty,  Samivel,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  in 
a  still  more  mysterious  manner,  'as  he  can  have  on 
hire ;  vun  as  von't  play,  Sammy.' 

'And  wot  'ud  be  the  good  o'  that?'  said  Sam. 

'Let  him  send  to  my  friend,  the  cab'net-maker,  to 
fetch  it  back,  Sammy/  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'An 
you  avake,  now?' 

'No,'  rejoined  Sam. 

'There  ain't  no  vurks  in  it,'  whispered  his  father. 
'It  'ull  hold  him  easy,  vith  his  hat  and  shoes  on,  and 
breathe  through  the  legs,  vich  his  holler. 


308  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

passage  ready  taken  for  'Member.  The  'Merrikin 
gov'ment  will  never  give  him  up,  ven  they  find  as  he  's 
got  Mponey  to  spend,  Sammy.  Let  the  gov'ner  stop 
there,  till  Mrs.  Bardell's  dead,  or  Mr.  Dodson  and 
Fogg's  hung  (wich  last  ewent  I  think  is  the  most 
likely  to  happen  first,  Sammy) ,  and  then  let  him  come 
back  and  write  a  book  about  the  'Merrikins  as  '11  pay 
all  his  expenses  and  more,  if  he  blows  'em  up  enough.' 

Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  hurried  abstract  of  his 
plot  with  great  vehemence  of  whisper ;  then,  as  if  fear- 
ful of  weakening  the  effect  of  the  tremendous  com- 
munication, by  any  further  dialogue,  he  gave  the 
coachman's  salute,  and  vanished. 

Sam  had  scarcely  recovered  his  usual  composure  of 
countenance,  which  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by  the 
secret  communication  of  his  respected  relative,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  accosted  him. 

'Sam,'  said  that  gentleman. 

'Sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  am  going  for  a  walk  round  the  prison,  and  I 
wish  you  to  attend  me.  I  see  a  prisoner  we  know 
coming  this  way,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling. 

'Wich,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller;  'the  genTm'n 
vith  the  head  o'  hair,  or  the  interestin'  captive  in  the 
stockin's  ?' 

'Neither,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  'He  is  an  older 
friend  of  yours,  Sam.' 

'O'  mine,  sir?'  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller. 

'You  recollect  the  gentleman  very  well,  I  dare  say, 
Sam/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'or  else  you  are  more  un- 
mindful of  your  old  acquaintances  than  I  think  you 
are.  Hush!  not  a  word,  Sam,  not  a  syllable.  Here 
he  is.' 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  spoke,  Jingle  walked  up.  He 
looked  less  miserable  than  before,  being  clad  in  a  half- 
worn  suit  of  clothes,  which,  with  Mr.  Pickwick's 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  309 

assistance,  had  been  released  from  the  pawnbroker's. 
He  wore  clean  linen  too,  and  had  had  his  hair  cut. 
He  was  very  pale  and  thin,  however ;  and  as  he  crept 
slowly  up,  leaning  on  a  stick,  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
he  had  suffered  severely  from  illness  and  want,  and 
was  still  very  weak.  He  took  off  his  hat  as  Mr.  Pick- 
wick saluted  him,  and  seemed  much  humbled  and 
abashed  at  sight  of  Sam  Weller. 

Following  close  at  his  heels,  came  Mr.  Job  Trotter, 
in  the  catalogue  of  whose  vices,  want  of  faith  and 
attachment  to  his  companion  could  at  all  events  find 
no  place.  He  was  still  ragged  and  squalid,  but  his 
face  was  not  quite  so  hollow  as  on  his  first  meeting 
with  Mr.  Pickwick,  2  few  days  before.  As  he  took 
off  his  hat  to  our  benevolent  old  friend,  he  murmured 
some  broken  expressions  of  gratitude,  and  muttered 
something  about  having  been  saved  from  starving. 

'Well,  well/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  impatiently  inter- 
rupting him,  'you  can  follow  with  Sam.  I  want  to 
speak  to  you,  Mr.  Jingle.  Can  you  walk  without  his 
arm?' 

'Certainly,  sir — all  ready — not  too  fast — legs  shaky 
— head  queer — round  and  round — earthquaky  sort  of 
feeling — very/ 

'Here,  give  me  your  arm/  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No,  no/  replied  Jingle;  'won't  indeed — rather  not.' 

'Nonsense/  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'lean  upon  me,  I 
desire  sir. 

Seeing  that  he  was  confused  and  agitated,  and  un- 
certain what  to  do,  Mr.  Pickwick  cut  the  matter  short 
by  drawing  the  invalided  stroller's  arm  through  his, 
and  leading  him  away,  without  saying  another  word 

about  it.  „ 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  the  countenance  ot 

Mr    Samuel  Weller  had  exhibited  an  expression  of 

the  most  overwhelming  and  absorbing  astonishment 


310  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

that  the  imagination  can  portray.  After  looking 
from  Job  to  Jingle,  and  from  Jingle  to  Job  in  pro- 
found silence,  he  softly  ejaculated  the  words,  'Well, 
I  am  damn'd !'  Which  he  repeated  at  least  a  score  of 
times :  after  which  exertion,  he  appeared  wholly  bereft 
of  speech,  and  again  cast  his  eyes,  first  upon  the  one 
and  then  upon  the  other,  in  mute  perplexity  and 
bewilderment. 

'Now,  Sam !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  back. 

'I  'm  a  comin',  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  mechanic- 
ally following  his  "master;  and  still  he  lifted  not  his 
eyes  from  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  who  walked  at  his  side,  in 
silence. 

Job  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  for  some  time. 
Sam,  with  his  glued  to  Job's  countenance,  ran  up 
against  the  people  who  were  walking  about,  and  fell 
over  little  children,  and  stumbled  against  steps  and 
railings,  without  appearing  at  all  sensible  of  it,  until 
Job,  looking  stealthily  up,  said — 

'How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller?* 

'It  is  him !'  exclaimed  Sam :  and  having  established 
Job's  identity  beyond  all  doubt,  he  smote  his  leg,  and 
vented  his  feelings  in  a  long  shrill  whistle. 

'Things  has  altered  with  me,  sir/  said  Job. 

'I  should  think  they  had,'  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller, 
surveying  his  companion's  rags  with  undisguised  won- 
der. 'This  is  rayther  a  change  for  the  worse,  Mr. 
Trotter,  as  the  gen'l'm'n  said,  wen  he  got  two  doubt- 
ful shillin's  and  sixpenn'orth  o'  pocket  pieces  for  a 
good  half-crown.' 

'It  is,  indeed,'  replied  Job,  shaking  his  head.  'There 
is  no  deception  now,  Mr.  Weller.  Tears,'  said  Job', 
with  a  look  of  momentary  slyness,  'tears  are  not  the 
only  proofs  of  distress,  nor  the  best  ones.' 

'No,  they  ain't,'  replied  Sam  expressively. 

'They  may  be  put  on,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Job. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  311 

'I  know  they  may,'  said  Sam;  'some  people,  indeed, 
has  'em  always  ready  laid  on,  and  can  pull  out  the 
plug  wenever  they  likes.' 

'Yes,'  replied  Job;  'but  these  sort  of  things  are  not 
so  easily  counterfeited,  Mr.  Weller,  and  it  is  a  more 
painful  process  to  get  them  up.'  As  he  spoke,  he 
pointed  to  his  sallow  sunken  cheeks,  and,  drawing  up 
his  coat  sleeves,  disclosed  an  arm  which  looked  as  if 
the  bone  could  be  broken  at  a  touch ;  so  sharp  and  brit- 
tle did  it  appear,  beneath  its  thin  covering  of  flesh. 

'Wot  have  you  been  a  doin'  to  yourself?'  said  Sam, 
recoiling. 

'Nothing,'  replied  Job. 

'Nothin'!'  echoed  Sam. 

'I  have  been  doin'  nothing  for  many  weeks  past,' 
said  Job ;  'and  eating  and  drinking  almost  as  little.' 

Sam  took  one  comprehensive  glance  at  Mr.  Trot- 
ter's thin  face  and  wretched  apparel;  and  then,  seiz- 
ing him  by  the  arm,  commenced  dragging  him  away 
with  great  violence. 

'Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Weller?'  said  Job, 
vainly  struggling  in  the  powerful  grasp  of  his  old 
enemy. 

'Come  on,'  said  Sam;  'come  on!'  He  deigned  no 
further  explanation  until  they  reached  the  tap;  and 
then  called  for  a  pot  of  porter,  which  was  speedily 
produced. 

'Now,'  said  Sam,  'drink  that  up,  ev'ry  drop  on  it, 
and  then  turn  the  pot  upside  down,  to  let  me  see  as 
you  Ve  took  the  med'cine.' 

'But,  my  dear  Mr.  Weller,'  remonstrated  Job. 

'Down  vith  it !'  said  Sam,  peremptorily. 

Thus  admonished,  Mr.  Trotter  raised  the  pot  to  his 
lips,  and,  by  gentle  and  almost  imperceptible  degrees, 
tilted  it  into  the  air.  He  paused  once,  and  only  once, 
to  draw  a  long  breath,  but  without  raising  his  face 


312  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

from  the  vessel,  which,  in  a  few  moment's  thereafter, 
he  held  out  at  arm's  length,  bottom  upward.  Noth- 
ing fell  upon  the  ground  but  a  few  particles  of  froth, 
which  slowly  detached  themselves  from  the  rim,  and 
trickled  lazily  down. 

'Well  done!'  said  Sam.  'How  do  you  find  your- 
self arter  it?' 

'Better,  sir.     I  think  I  am  better,'  responded  Job. 

'O'  course  you  air,'  said  Sam,  argumentatively. 
It 's  like  puttin'  gas  in  a  balloon.  I  can  see  with  the 
naked  eye  that  you  gets  stouter  under  the  operation. 
Wot  do  you  say  to  another  o'  the  same  di-mensions?' 

'I  would  rather  not,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you, 
sir,'  replied  Job,  'much  rather  not.' 

'Veil,  then,  wot  do  you  say  to  some  wittles?'  in- 
quired Sam. 

'Thanks  to  your  worthy  governor,  sir/  said  Mr. 
Trotter,  'we  have  half  a  leg  of  mutton,  baked,  at  a 
quarter  before  three,  with  the  potatoes  under  it,  to 
save  boiling.' 

'Wotl  Has  he  been  a  purwidin'  for  you?'  asked 
Sam,  emphatically. 

'He  has,  sir,'  replied  Job.  'More  than  that,  Mr. 
Weller;  my  master  being  very  ill,  he  got  us  a  room— 
we  were  in  a  kennel  before — and  paid  for  it,  sir ;  and 
come  to  look  at  us,  at  night,  when  nobody  should 
know.  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Job,  with  real  tears  in  his 
eyes,  for  once,  'I  could  serve  that  gentleman  till  I  fell 
down  dead  at  his  feet.' 

'I  say!'  said  Sam,  'I  '11  trouble  you,  my  friend! 
None  o'  that!' 

Job  Trotter  looked  amazed. 

'None  o'  that,  I  say,  young  feller,'  repeated  Sam, 
firmly.  'No  man  serves  him  but  me.  And  now 
we  're  upon  it,  I  '11  let  you  into  another  secret  besides 
that,'  said  Sam,  as  he  paid  for  the  beer.  'I  never 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  313 

heerd,  mind  you,  nor  read  of  in  story-books,  nor  see 
in  picters,  any  angel  in  tights  and  gaiters — not  even 
in  spectacles,  as  I  remember,  though  that  may  ha' 
been  done  for  anythin'  I  know  to  the  contrairey — but 
mark  my  vords,  Job  Trotter,  he  's  a  reg'lar  thorough- 
bred angel  for  all  that;  and  let  me  see  the  man  as 
wenturs  to  tell  me  he  knows  a  better  vun.'  With 
this  defiance,  Mr.  Weller  buttoned  up  his  change  in  a 
side  pocket,  and,  with  many  confirmatory  nods  and 
gestures  by  the  way,  proceeded  in  search  of  the  sub- 
ject of  discourse. 

They  found  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  company  with  Jingle, 
talking  very  earnestly,  and  not  bestowing  a  look  on 
the  groups  who  were  congregated  on  the  racket- 
ground  ;  they  were  very  motley  groups  too,  and  worth 
the  looking  at,  if  it  were  only  in  idle  curiosity. 

'Well/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Sam  and  his  compan- 
ion drew  nigh,  'you  will  see  how  your  health  becomes, 
and  think  about  it  meanwhile.  Make  the  statement 
out  for  me  when  you  feel  yourself  equal  to  the  task, 
and  I  will  discuss  the  subject  with  you  when  I  have 
considered  it.  Now,  go  to  your  room.  You  are 
tired,  and  not  strong  enough  to  be  out  long.' 

Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  without  one  spark  of  his  old 
animation — with  nothing  even  of  the  dismal  gaiety 
which  he  had  assumed  when  Mr.  Pickwick  first  stum- 
bled on  him  in  his  misery — bowed  low  without  speak- 
ing, and,  motioning  to  Job  not  to  follow  him  just  yet, 
crept  slowly  away. 

'Curious "scene  this,  is  it  not,  Sam?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  good-humouredly  round. 

'Wery  much  so,  sir,'  replied  Sam.     'Wonders   ull 
never  cease,'  added  Sam,  speaking  to  himself.     'I  'm 
wery  much  mistaken  if  that  'ere  Jingle  worn't  a  dom 
somethin'  in  the  water-cart  way!' 

The  area  formed  by  the  wall  in  that  part  ot  the 


314  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Fleet  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  stood,  was  just  wide 
enough  to  make  a  good  racket-court;  one  side  being 
formed,  of  course,  by  the  wall  itself,  and  the  other  by 
that  portion  of  the  prison  which  looked  (or  rather 
would  have  looked,  but  for  the  wall)  towards  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral.  Sauntering  or  sitting  about,  in 
every  possible  attitude  of  listless  idleness,  were  a  great 
number  of  debtors,  the  major  part  of  whom  were 
waiting  in  prison  until  their  day  of  'going  up'  before 
the  Insolvent  Court  should  arrive;  while  others  had 
been  remanded  for  various  terms,  which  they  were 
idling  away,  as  they  best  could.  Some  were  shabby, 
some  were  smart,  many  dirty,  a  few  clean;  but  there 
they  all  lounged,  and  loitered,  and  slunk  about,  with 
as  little  spirit  or  purpose  as  the  beasts  in  a  menagerie. 
Lolling  from  the  windows  which  commanded  a  view 
of  this  promenade,  were  a  number  of  persons,  some 
in  noisy  conversation  with  their  acquaintance  below, 
others  playing  at  ball  with  some  adventurous  throw- 
ers outside,  others  looking  on  at  the  racket-players,  or 
watching  the  boys  as  they  cried  the  game.  Dirty  slip- 
shod women  passed  and  re-passed,  on  their  way  to 
the  cooking-house  in  one  corner  of  the  yard ;  children 
screamed,  and  fought,  and  played  together,  in  an- 
other; the  tumbling  of  the  skittles,  and  the  shouts  of 
the  players,  mingled  perpetually  with  these  and  a 
hundred  other  sounds ;  and  all  was  noise  and  tumult- 
save  in  a  miserable  shed  a  few  yards  off,  where  lay, 
all  quiet  and  ghastly,  the  body  of  the  Chancery  pris- 
oner who  had  died  the  night  before,  awaiting  the 
mockery  of  an  inquest.  The  body!  It  is  the  law- 
yer's term  for  the  restless  whirling  mass  of  cares  and 
anxieties,  affections,  hopes,  and  griefs,  that  make  up 
the  living  man.  The  law  had  his  body;  and  there  it 
lay,  clothed  in  grave  clothes,  an  awful  witness  to  its 
tender  mercy. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  315 

'Would  you  like  to  see  a  whistling-shop,  sir?'  in- 
quired Job  Trotter. 

'What  do  you  mean?'  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  counter- 
inquiry. 

'A  vistlin'  shop,  sir,'  interposed  Mr.  Weller. 

'What  is  that,  Sam?  A  bird-fancier's?'  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Bless  your  heart,  no,  sir,'  replied  Job ;  'a  whistling- 
shop,  sir,  is  where  they  sell  spirits.'  Mr.  Job  Trotter 
briefly  explained  here,  that  all  persons,  being  prohib- 
ited under  heavy  penalties  from  conveying  spirits  into 
debtors'  prisons,  and  such  commodities  being  highly 
prized  by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  confined  therein, 
it  had  occurred  to  some  speculative  turnkey  to  con- 
nive, for  certain  lucrative  considerations,  at  two  or 
three  prisoners  retailing  the  favourite  article  of  gin, 
for  their  own  profit  and  advantage. 

'This  plan  you  see,  sir,  has  been  gradually  intro- 
duced into  all  the  prisons  for  debt,'  said  Mr.  Trotter. 

'And  it  has  this  wery  great  advantage,'  said  Sam, 
'that  the  turnkeys  takes  wery  good  care  to  seize  hold 
o'  ev'rybody  but  them  as  pays  'em,  that  attempts  the 
willainy,  and  wen  it  gets  in  the  papers  they  're  ap- 
plauded for  their  wigilance;  so  it  cuts  two  ways- 
frightens  other  people  from  the  trade,  and  elewates 
their  own  characters.' 

'Exactly  so,  Mr.  Weller,'  observed  Job. 

'Well,  but  are  these  rooms  never  searched,  to  ascer- 
tain whether  any  spirits  are  concealed  in  them?'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Cert'nly  they  are,  sir,'  replied  Sam;  'but  the  turn- 
keys knows  beforehand,  and  gives  the  word  to  the 
wistlers,  and  you  may  wistle  for  it  wen  you  go  to 

look.' 

By  this  time,  Job  had  tapped  at  a  door,  which  was 
opened  by  a  gentleman  with  an  uncombed  head,  who 


316  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

bolted  it  after  them  when  they  had  walked  in,  and 
grinned:  upon  which  Job  grinned,  and  Sam  also; 
whereupon  Mr.  Pickwick,  thinking  it  might  be  ex- 
pected of  him,  kept  on  smiling  to  the  end  of  the 
interview. 

The  gentleman  with  the  uncombed  head  appeared 
quite  satisfied  with  this  mute  announcement  of  their 
business,  and,  producing  a  flat  stone  bottle,  which 
might  hold  about  a  couple  of  quarts,  from  beneath 
his  bedstead,  filled  out  three  glasses  of  gin,  which  Job 
Trotter  and  Sam  disposed  of  in  a  most  workmanlike 
manner. 

'Any  more?'  said  the  whistling  gentleman. 

'No  more,'  replied  Job  Trotter. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paid,  the  door  was  unbolted,  and  out 
they  came;  the  uncombed  gentleman  bestowing  a 
friendly  nod  upon  Mr.  Roker,  who  happened  to  be 
passing  at  the  moment. 

From  this  spot,  Mr.  Pickwick  wandered  along  all 
the  galleries,  up  and  down  all  the  staircases,  and  once 
again  round  the  whole  area  of  the  yard.  The  great 
body  of  the  prison  population  appeared  to  be  Mivins, 
and  Smangle,  and  the  parson,  and  the  butcher,  and 
the  leg,  over  and  over,  and  over  again.  There  were 
the  same  squalor,  the  same  turmoil  and  noise,  the  same 
general  characteristics,  in  every  corner;  in  the  best 
and  the  worst  alike.  The  whole  place  seemed  restless 
and  troubled ;  and  the  people  were  crowding  and  flit- 
ting to  and  fro,  like  the  shadows  in  an  uneasy  dream. 

'I  have  seen  enough,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he 
threw  himself  into  a  chair  in  his  little  apartment, 
'my  head  aches  with  these  scenes,  and  my  heart,  too. 
Henceforth  I  will  be  a  prisoner  in  my  own  room.' 

And  Mr.  Pickwick  steadfastly  adhered  to  this  de- 
termination. For  three  long  months  he  remained  shut 
up,  all  day ;  only  stealing  out  at  night,  to  breathe  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  317 

air,  when  the  greater  part  of  his  fellow-prisoners  were 
in  bed  or  carousing  in  their  rooms.  His  health  was 
beginning  to  suffer  from  the  closeness  of  the  confine- 
ment, but  neither  the  oft-repeated  entreaties  of  Per- 
ke-r  and  his  friends,  nor  the  still  more  frequently- 
repeated  warnings  and  admonitions  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  could  induce  him  to  alter  one  jot  of  his  inflex- 
ible resolution. 


CHPPTER  XL VI 

RECORDS  A  TOUCHING  ACT  OF  DELICATE  FEELING,  NO1 
UNMIXED  WITH  PLEASANTRY,  ACHIEVED  AND  PER- 
FORMED BY  MESSRS.  DODSON  AND  FOGG 

IT  was  within  a  week  of  the  close  of  the  month  of 
July,  that  a  hackney  cabriolet,  number  unrecorded, 
was  seen  to  proceed  at  a  rapid  pace  up  Goswell  Street ; 
three  people  were  squeezed  into  it  besides  the  driver, 
who  sat  in  his  own  particular  little  dickey  at  the  side ; 
over  the  apron  were  hung  two  shawls,  belonging  to 
two  small  vixenish-looking  ladies  under  the  apron; 
between  whom,  compressed  into  a  very  small  compass, 
was  stowed  away  a  gentleman  of  heavy  and  subdued 
demeanour,  who,  whenever  he  ventured  to  make  an 
observation,  was  snapped  up  short  by  one  of  the  vix- 
enish ladies  before-mentioned.  Lastly,  the  two  vix- 
enish ladies  and  the  heavy  gentleman  were  giving  the 
driver  contradictory  directions,  all  tending  to  the  one 
point  that  he  should  stop  at  Mrs.  Bardell's  door; 
which  the  heavy  gentleman,  in  direct  opposition  to, 
and  defiance  of,  the  vixenish  ladies,  contended  was  a 
green  door  and  not  a  yellow  one. 

'Stop  at  the  house  with  the  green  door,  driver,'  said 
the  heavy  gentleman. 


318  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Oh !  You  perwerse  creetur !'  exclaimed  one  of  the 
vixenish  ladies.  'Drive  to  the  'ouse  with  the  yellow 
door,  cabmin.' 

Upon  this,  the  cabman,  who  in  a  sudden  effort  to 
pull  up  at  the  house  with  the  green  door,  had  pulled 
the  horse  up  so  high  that  he  nearly  pulled  him  back- 
ward into  the  cabriolet,  let  the  animal's  forelegs  down 
to  the  ground  again,  and  paused. 

'Now  vere  am  I  to  pull  up?'  inquired  the  driver. 
'Settle  it  among  yourselves.  All  I  ask  is,  vere?' 

Here  the  contest  was  renewed  with  increased  vio- 
lence; and  the  horse  being  troubled  with  a  fly  on  his 
nose,  the  cabman  humanely  employed  his  leisure  in 
lashing  him  about  on  the  head,  on  the  counter-irrita- 
tion principle. 

'Most  wotes  carries  the  day !'  said  one  of  the  vixen- 
ish ladies  at  length.  'The  'ouse  with  the  yellow  door, 
cabmin.' 

But  after  the  cabriolet  had  dashed  up,  in  splendid 
style,  to  the  house  with  the  yellow  door:  'making,'  as 
one  of  the  vixenish  ladies  triumphantly  said,  'acter- 
rally  more  noise  than  if  one  had  come  in  one's  own  car- 
riage'— and  after  the  driver  had  dismounted  to  assist 
the  ladies  in  getting  out — the  small  round  head  of 
Master  Thomas  Bardell  was  thrust  out  of  the  one 
pair  window  of  a  house  with  a  red  door,  a  few  num- 
bers off. 

'Aggrawatin'  thing!'  said  the  vixenish  lady  last 
mentioned,  darting  a  withering  glance  at  the  heavy 
gentleman. 

*My  dear,  it 's  not  my  fault,'  said  the  gentleman. 

'Don't  talk  to  me,  you  creetur,  don't,'  retorted  the- 
lady.     'The  house  with  the  red  door,  cabmin.     Oh !  if 
ever  a  woman  was  troubled  with  a  ruffi'nly  creetur, 
that  takes  a  pride  and  a  pleasure  in  disgracing  his  wife 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  319 

on  every  possible  occasion  afore  strangers,  I  am  that 
woman !' 

'You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Raddle,' 
said  the  other  little  woman,  who  was  no  other  than 
Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'What  have  I  been  a  doing  of?'  asked  Mr.  Raddle. 

'Don't  talk  to  me,  don't,  you  brute,  for  fear  I  should 
be  perwoked  to  for  git  my  sect  and  strike  you!'  said 
Mrs.  Raddle. 

While  this  dialogue  was  going  on,  the  driver  was 
most  ignominiously  leading  the  horse,  by  the  bridle, 
up  to  the  house  with  the  red  door,  which  Master  Bar- 
dell  had  already  opened.  Here  was  a  mean  and  low 
way  of  arriving  at  a  friend's  house !  No  dashing  up, 
with  all  the  fire  and  fury  of  the  animal;  no  jumping 
down  of  the  driver;  no  loud  knocking  at  the  door;  no 
opening  of  the  apron  with  a  crash  at  the  very  last 
moment,  for  fear  of  the  ladies  sitting  in  a  draught; 
and  then  the  man  handing  the  shawls  out,  afterwards, 
as  if  he  were  a  private  coachman!  The  whole  edge 
of  the  thing  had  been  taken  off;  it  was  flatter  than 
walking. 

'Well,  Tommy/  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  'how's  your 
poor  dear  mother?' 

'Oh,  she 's  very  well,'  replied  Master  Bardell. 
'She's  in  the  front-parlour,  all  ready.  I'm  ready 
too,  I  am.'  Here  Master  Bardell  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  jumped  off  and  on  the  bottom  step  of 
the  door. 

'Is  anybody  else  a  goin',  Tommy?'  said  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins, arranging  her  pelerine. 

'Mrs.  Sanders  is  going,  she  is,'  replied  Tommy, 
'I  'm  going  too,  I  am.' 

'Drat  the  boy,'  said  little  Mrs.  Cluppins.  'He 
thinks  of  nobody  but  himself.  Here,  Tommy,  dear.' 


320 

Well,'  said  Master  Bardell. 

'Who  else  is  a  goin',  lovey?'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins  in 
an  insinuating  manner. 

'Oh!  Mrs.  Rogers  is  a  goin','  replied  Master  Bar- 
dell,  opening  his  eyes  very  wide  as  he  delivered  the 
intelligence. 

'What!  The  lady  as  has  taken  the  lodgings!'  ejac- 
ulated Mrs.  Cluppins. 

Master  Bardell  put  his  hands  deeper  down  into  his 
pockets,  and  nodded  exactly  thirty-five  times,  to  imply 
that  it  was  the  lady  lodger,  and  no  other. 

'Bless  us !'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins.     'It 's  quite  a  party !' 

'Ah,  if  you  knew  wyhat  was  in  the  cupboard,  you  'd 
say  so,'  replied  Master  Bardell. 

'What  is  there,  Tommy?'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  coax- 
ingly.  'You  '11  tell  me,  Tommy,  I  know." 

'No,  I  won't,'  replied  Master  Bardell,  shaking  his 
head,  and  applying  himself  to  the  bottom  step  again. 

'Drat  the  child!'  muttered  Mrs.  Cluppins.  'What 
a  prowokin'  little  wretch  it  is!  Come,  Tommy,  tell 
your  dear  Chippy.' 

'Mother  said  I  wasn't  to,'  rejoined  Master  Bardell, 
'I  'm  a  goin'  to  have  some,  I  am.'  Cheered  by  this 
prospect,  the  precocious  boy  applied  himself  to  his 
infantile  tread-mill,  with  increased  vigour. 

The  above  examination  of  a  child  of  tender  years, 
took  place  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Raddle  and  the  cab- 
driver  were  having  an  altercation  concerning  the  fare : 
which,  terminating  at  this  point  in  favour  of  the  cab- 
man, Mrs.  Raddle  came  up  tottering. 

'Lauk,  Mary  Ann!  what's  the  matter?'  said  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

'It 's  put  me  all  over  in  such  a  tremble,  Betsy,' 
replied  Mrs.  Raddle.  'Raddle  ain't  like  a  man;  he 
leaves  every  think  to  me.' 

This  was  scarcely  fair  upon  the  unfortunate  Mr. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  321 

Raddle,  who  had  been  thrust  aside  by  his  good  lady 
in  the  commencement  of  the  dispute,  and  peremp- 
torily commanded  to  hold  his  tongue.  He  had  no 
opportunity  of  defending  himself,  however,  for  Mrs. 
Raddle  gave  unequivocal  signs  of  fainting;  which, 
being  perceived  from  the  parlour  window,  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell,  Mrs.  Sanders,  the  lodger,  and  the  lodger's  serv- 
ant, darted  precipitately  out,  and  conveyed  her  into 
the  house:  all  talking  at  the  same  time,  and  giving 
utterance  to  various  expressions  of  pity  and  condo- 
lence, as  if  she  were  one  of  the  most  suffering  mortals 
on  earth.  Being  conveyed  into  the  front-parlour,  she 
was  there  deposited  on  a  sofa;  and  the  lady  from  the 
first  floor  running  up  to  the  first  floor,  returned  with 
a  bottle  of  sal  volatile,  which,  holding  Mrs.  Raddle 
tight  round  the  neck,  she  applied  in  all  womanly 
kindness  and  pity  to  her  nose,  until  that  lady  with 
many  plunges  and  struggles  was  fain  to  declare  her- 
self decidedly  better. 

'Ah,  poor  thing!'  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  'I  know  what 
her  f  eelin's  is,  too  well.' 

'Ah,  poor  thing!  so  do  I,'  said  Mrs.  Sanders:  and 
then  all  the  ladies  moaned  in  unison,  and  said  ///<// 
knew  what  it  was,  and  they  pitied  her  from  their 
hearts,  they  did.  Even  the  lodger's  little  servant,  who 
was  thirteen  years  old,  and  three  feet  high,  murmured 
her  sympathy. 

'But  what 's  been  the  matter?'  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'Ah,  what  has  decomposed  you,  ma'am?'  inquired 
Mrs.  Rogers. 

'I  have  been  a  good  deal  flurried,'  replied  Mrs.  Rad- 
dle, in  a  reproachful  manner.  Thereupon  the  ladies 
cast  indignant  looks  at  Mr.  Raddle. 

'Why,  the  fact  is,'  said  that  unhappy  gentleman, 
stepping  forward,  'when  we  alighted  at  this  door,  a 
dispute  arose  with  the  driver  of  the  cabrioily-  A 


322  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

loud  scream  from  his  wife,  at  the  mention  of  this 
word,  rendered  all  further  explanation  inaudible. 

'You  'd  better  leave  us  to  bring  her  round,  Raddle,' 
said  Mrs.  Cluppins.  'She  11  never  get  better  as  long 
as  you  're  here.' 

All  the  ladies  concurred  in  this  opinion;  so  Mr. 
Raddle  was  pushed  out  of  the  room,  and  requested  to 
give  himself  an  airing  in  the  back  yard.  Which  he 
did  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell  announced  to  him  with  a  solemn  face  that  he 
might  come  in  now,  but  that  he  must  be  very  careful 
how  he  behaved  towards  his  wife.  She  knew  he 
didn't  mean  to  be  unkind ;  but  Mary  Ann  was  very  far 
from  strong,  and,  if  he  didn't  take  care,  he  might  lose 
her  when  he  least  expected  it,  which  would  be  a  very 
dreadful  reflection  for  him  afterwards;  and  so  on. 
All  this,  Mr.  Raddle  heard  with  great  submission,  and 
presently  returned  to  the  parlour  in  a  most  lamb-like 
manner. 

'Why,  Mrs.  Rogers,  ma'am,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell, 
'you  've  never  been  introduced,  I  declare !  Mr.  Rad- 
dle, ma'am;  Mrs.  Cluppins,  ma'am;  Mrs.  Raddle, 
ma'am.' 

— 'Which  is  Mrs.  Cluppins's  sister,'  suggested  Mrs. 
Sanders. 

'Oh,  indeed!'  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  graciously;  for  she 
was  the  lodger,  and  her  servant  was  in  waiting,  so  she 
was  more  gracious  than  intimate,  in  right  of  her  posi- 
tion. 'Oh,  indeed!' 

Mrs.  Raddle  smiled  sweetly,  Mr.  Raddle  bowed, 
and  Mrs.  Cluppins  said  'she  was  sure  she  was  very 
happy  to  have  a  opportunity  of  being  known  to  a  lady* 
which  she  had  heerd  so  much  in  faviour  of,  as  Mrs. 
Rogers.'  A  compliment  which  the  last-named  lady 
acknowledged  with  graceful  condescension. 

'Well,  Mr.  Raddle,'  said  Mrs.  Bardell;  'I  'm  sure 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          323 

you  ought  to  feel  very  much  honoured  at  you  and 
Tommy  being  the  only  gentlemen  to  escort  so  many 
ladies  all  the  way  to  the  Spaniards,  at  Hampstead. 
Don't  you  think  he  ought,  Mrs.  Rogers,  ma'am?' 

'Oh,  certainly,  ma'am,'  replied  Mrs.  Rogers;  after 
whom  all  the  other  ladies  responded,  'Oh,  certainly.' 

'Of  course  I  feel  it,  ma'am,'  said  Mr.  Raddle,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  and  evincing  a  slight  tendency  to 
brighten  up  a  little.  'Indeed,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
said,  as  we  was  a  coming  along  in  the  cabrioily— 

At  the  recapitulation  of  the  word  which  awakened 
so  many  painful  recollections,  Mrs.  Raddle  applied 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  again,  and  uttered  a  half- 
suppressed  scream;  so  Mrs.  Bardell  frowned  upon 
Mr.  Raddle,  to  intimate  that  he  had  better  not  say 
anything  more,  and  desired  Mrs.  Rogers's  servant, 
with  an  air,  to  'put  the  wine  on.' 

This  was  the  signal  for  displaying  the  hidden  treas- 
ures of  the  closet,  which  comprised  sundry  plates  of 
oranges  and  biscuits,  and  a  bottle  of  old  crusted  port 
—that  at  one  and  nine — with  another  of  the  cele- 
brated East  India  sherry  at  fourteenpence,  which  were 
all  produced  in  honour  of  the  lodger,  and  afforded 
unlimited  satisfaction  to  everybody.  After  great 
consternation  had  been  excited  in  the  mind  of  Mrs. 
Cluppins,  by  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  Tommy  to 
recount  how  he  had  been  cross-examined  regarding 
the  cupboard  then  in  action  (which  was  fortunately 
nipped  in  the  bud  by  his  imbibing  half  a  glass  of  the 
old  crusted  'the  wrong  way,'  and  thereby  endanger- 
ing his  life  for  some  seconds) ,  the  party  walked  forth, 
in  quest  of  a  Hampstead  stage.  This  was  soon 
found,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  they  all  arrived  safely 
in  the  Spaniards  Tea-gardens,  where  the  luckless  Mr. 
Raddle's  very  first  act  nearly  occasioned  his  good  lady 
a  relapse;  it  being  neither  more  nor  less  than  to  order 


324  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

tea  for  seven,  whereas  (as  the  ladies  one  and  all  re- 
marked) ,  what  could  have  been  easier  than  for  Tommy 
to  have  drank  out  of  anybody's  cup — or  everybody's, 
if  that  was  all — when  the  waiter  wasn't  looking: 
which  would  have  saved  one  head  of  tea,  and  the 
tea  just  as  good! 

However,  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  the  tea-tray 
came,  with  seven  cups  and  saucers,  and  bread  and 
butter  on  the  same  scale.  Mrs.  Bardell  was  unani- 
mously voted  into  the  chair,  and  Mrs.  Rogers  being 
stationed  on  her  right  hand,  and  Mrs.  Raddle  on  her 
left,  the  meal  proceeded  with  great  merriment  and 
success. 

'How  sweet  the  country  is,  to  be  sure!'  sighed  Mrs. 
Rogers;  'I  almost  wish  I  lived  in  it  always.' 

'Oh,  you  wouldn't  like  that,  ma'am,'  replied  Mrs. 
Bardell,  rather  hastily ;  for  it  was  not  at  all  advisable, 
with  reference  to  the  lodgings,  to  encourage  such 
notions;  'you  wouldn't  like  it,  ma'am.' 

'Oh!  I  should  think  you  was  a  deal  too  lively  and 
sought  after,  to  be  content  with  the  country,  ma'am,' 
said  little  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'Perhaps  I  am,  ma'am.  Perhaps  I  am,'  sighed  the 
first-floor  lodger. 

'For  lone  people  as  have  got  nobody  to  care  for 
them,  or  take  care  of  them,  or  as  have  been  hurt  in 
their  mind,  or  that  kind  of  thing/  observed  Mr.  Rad- 
dle, plucking  up  a  little  cheerfulness,  and  looking 
round,  'the  country  is  all  very  well.  The  country  for 
a  wounded  spirit,  they  say.' 

Now,  of  all  things  in  the  world  that  the  unfortunate 
man  could  have  said,  any  would  have  been  preferable 
to  this.  Of  course  Mrs.  Bardell  burst  into  tears,  and 
requested  to  be  led  from  the  table  instantly;  upon 
which  the  affectionate  child  began  to  cry  too,  most 
dismally. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  325 

'Would  anybody  believe,  ma'am,'  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Raddle,  turning  fiercely  to  the  first-floor  lodger,  'that 
a  woman  could  be  married  to  such  a  unmanly  creetur, 
which  can  tamper  with  a  woman's  feelings  as  he  does, 
every  hour  in  the  day,  ma'am?' 

'My  dear,'  remonstrated  Mr.  Raddle,  'I  didn't  mean 
anything,  my  dear.' 

'You  didn't  mean!'  repeated  Mrs.  Raddle,  with 
great  scorn  and  contempt.  'Go  away.  I  can't  bear 
the  sight  on  you,  you  brute.' 

'You  must  not  flurry  yourself,  Mary  Ann,'  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Cluppins.  'You  really  must  consider 
yourself,  my  dear,  which  you  never  do.  Now  go 
away,  Raddle,  there  's  a  good  soul,  or  you  '11  only 
aggravate  her.' 

'You  had  better  take  your  tea  by  yourself,  sir,  in- 
deed,' said  Mrs.  Rogers,  again  applying  the  smelling- 
bottle. 

Mrs.  Sanders,  who  according  to  custom  was  very 
busy  with  the  bread  and  butter,  expressed  the  same 
opinion,  and  Mr.  Raddle  quietly  retired. 

After  this,  there  was  a  great  hoisting  up  of  Master 
Bardell,  who  was  rather  a  large  size  for  hugging,  into 
his  mother's  arms:  in  which  operation  he  got  his 
boots  in  the  tea-board,  and  occasioned  some  confusion 
among  the  cups  and  saucers.  But  that  description 
of  fainting  fits,  which  is  contagious  among  ladies, 
seldom  lasts  long;  so  when  he  had  been  well  kissed, 
and  a  little  cried  over,  Mrs.  Bardell  recovered,  set  him 
down  again,  wondered  how  she  could  have  been  so 
foolish,  and  poured  out  some  more  tea. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  that  the  sound  of  approach- 
ing wheels  was  heard,  and  that  the  ladies,  looking  up 
saw  a  hackney-coach  stop  at  the  garden-gate. 

'More  company!'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

'It 's  a  gentleman,'  said  Mrs.  Raddle. 


326  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Well,  if  it  ain't  Mr.  Jackson,  the  young  man  from 
Dodson  and  Fogg's!'  cried  Mrs.  Bardell.  'Why, 
gracious!  Surely  Mr.  Pickwick  can't  have  paid  the 
damages.' 

'Or  hoffered  marriage!'  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'Dear  me,  how  slow  the  gentleman  is!'  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Rogers.  'Why  doesn't  he  make  haste?' 

As  the  lady  spoke  these  words,  Mr.  Jackson  turned 
from  the  coach  where  he  had  been  addressing  some 
observations  to  a  shabby  man  in  black  leggings,  who 
had  just  emerged  from  the  vehicle  with  a  thick  ash 
stick  in  his  hand,  and  made  his  way  to  the  place  where 
the  ladies  were  seated;  winding  his  hair  round  the 
brim  of  his  hat  as  he  came  along. 

'Is  anything  the  matter?  Has  anything  taken 
place,  Mr.  Jackson?'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  eagerly. 

'Nothing  whatever,  ma'am,'  replied  Mr.  Jackson. 
'How  de  do,  ladies?  I  have  to  ask  pardon,  ladies,  for 
intruding — but  the  law,  ladies — the  law.'  With  this 
apology  Mr.  Jackson  smiled,  made  a  comprehensive 
bow,  and  gave  his  hair  another  wind.  Mrs.  Rogers 
whispered  Mrs.  Raddle  that  he  was  really  an  elegant 
young  man. 

'I  called  in  Goswell  Street,'  resumed  Jackson,  'and 
hearing  that  you  were  here,  from  the  slavey,  took  a 
coach  and  came  on.  Our  people  want  you  down  in 
the  city  directly,  Mrs.  Bardell.' 

'Lor!'  ejaculated  that  lady,  starting  at  the  sudden 
nature  of  the  communication. 

'Yes,'  said  Jackson,  biting  his  lip.  'It 's  very  im- 
portant and  pressing  business,  which  can't  be  post- 
poned on  any  account.  Indeed,  Dodson  expressly 
said  so  to  me,  and  so  did  Fogg.  I  Ve  kept  the  coacli 
on  purpose  for  you  to  go  back  in.' 

'How  very  strange!'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell. 

The  ladies  agreed  that  it  was  very  strange,  but  were 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  327 

unanimously  of  opinion  that  it  must  be  very  impor- 
tant, or  Dodson  and  Fogg  would  never  have  sent ;  and 
further,  that  the  business  being  urgent,  she  ought  to 
repair  to  Dodson  and  Fogg's  without  any  delay. 

There  was  a  certain  degree  of  pride  and  importance 
about  being  wanted  by  one's  lawyers  in  such  a  mon- 
strous hurry,  that  was  by  no  means  displeasing  to  Mrs. 
Bardell,  especially  as  it  might  be  reasonably  supposed 
to  enhance  her  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  first- 
floor  lodger.  She  simpered  a  little,  affected  extreme 
vexation  and  hesitation,  and  at  last  arrived  at  the  con- 
clusion that  she  supposed  she  must  go. 

'But  won't  you  refresh  yourself  after  your  walk, 
Mr.  Jackson?'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  persuasively. 

'Why,  really  there  ain't  much  time  to  lose,'  replied 
Jackson;  'and  I  Ve  got  a  friend  here,'  he  continued, 
looking  towards  the  man  with  the  ash  stick. 

'Oh,  ask  your  friend  to  come  here,  sir,'  said  Mrs. 
Bardell.  'Pray  ask  your  friend  here,  sir.' 

'Why,  thank  'ee,  I  'd  rather  not,'  said  Mr.  Jackson, 
with  some  embarrassment  of  manner.  'He 's  not 
much  used  to  ladies'  society,  and  it  makes  him  bashful- 
If  you  '11  order  the  waiter  to  deliver  him  anything 
short,  he  won't  drink  it  off  at  once,  won't  he! — only 
try  him!'  Mr.  Jackson's  fingers  wandered  playfully 
round  his  nose,  at  this  portion  of  his  discourse,  to  warn 
his  hearers  that  he  was  speaking  ironically. 

The  waiter  was  at  once  despatched  to  the  bashful 
gentleman,  and  the  bashful  gentleman  took  some- 
thing; Mr.  Jackson  also  took  something,  and  the 
ladies  took  something,  for  hospitality's  sake.  Mi. 
Jackson  then  said  he  was  afraid  it  was  time  to  go; 
upon  which,  Mrs.  Sanders,  Mrs.  Cluppins,  and 
Tommy  (who  it  was  arranged  should  accompany  Mrs. 
Bardell:  leaving  the  others  to  Mr.  Raddle's  protec- 
tion) ,  got  into  the  coach. 


328  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Isaac,'  said  Jackson,  as  Mrs.  Bardell  prepared  to 
get  in :  looking  up  at  the  man  with  the  ash  stick,  who 
was  seated  on  the  box,  smoking  a  cigar. 

'Well?' 

'This  is  Mrs.  Bardell.' 

'Oh,  I  know'd  that,  long  ago,'  said  the  man. 

Mrs.  Bardell  got  in,  Mr.  Jackson  got  in  after  her, 
and  away  they  drove.  Mrs.  Bardell  could  not  help 
ruminating  on  what  Mr.  Jackson's  friend  had  said. 
Shrewd  creatures,  those  lawyers.  Lord  bless  us,  how 
they  find  people  out ! 

'Sad  thing  about  these  costs  of  our  people's,  ain't 
it?'  said  Jackson,  when  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs.  San- 
ders had  fallen  asleep ;  'your  bill  of  costs,  I  mean.' 

'I  'm  very  sorry  they  can't  get  them,'  replied  Mrs. 
Bardell.  'But  if  you  law-gentlemen  do  these  things 
on  speculation,  why  you  must  get  a  loss  now  and  then, 
you  know.' 

'You  gave  them  a  cognovit  for  the  amount  of  your 
costs,  after  the  trial,  I  'm  told?'  said  Jackson. 

'Yes.  Just  as  a  matter  of  form,'  replied  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell. 

'Certainly,'  replied  Jackson,  drily.  'Quite  a  matter 
of  form.  Quite.' 

On  they  drove,  and  Mrs.  Bardell  fell  asleep.  She 
was  awakened,  after  some  time,  by  the  stopping  of  the 
coach. 

'Bless  us!'  said  the  lady.  'Are  we  at  Freeman's 
Court?' 

'We  're  not  going  quite  so  far,'  replied  Jackson. 
'Have  the  goodness  to  step  out.' 

Mrs.  Bardell,  not  yet  thoroughly  awake,  complied. 
It  was  a  curious  place :  a  large  wall,  with  a  gate  in  the 
middle,  and  a  gas-light  burning  inside. 

'Now,  ladies,'  cried  the  man  with  the  ash  stick,  look- 
ing into  the  coach,  and  shaking  Mrs.  Sanders  to  wake 


MRS.    BARDELL   ENCOUNTERS    MR.    PICKWICK    IN   THE   PRISON. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS          329 

her  'Come!'  Rousing  her  friend,  Mrs.  Sanders 
alighted.  Mrs.  Bardell,  leaning  on  Jackson's  arm, 
and  leading  Tommy  by  the  hand,  had  already  entered 
the  porch.  They  followed. 

The  room  they  turned  into,  was  even  more  odd- 
looking  than  the  porch.  Such  a  number  of  men 
standing  about !  And  they  stared  so  I 

'What  place  is  this?'  inquired  Mrs.  Bardell,  paus- 
ing. 

'Only  one  of  our  public  offices,'  replied  Jackson, 
hurrying  her  through  a  door,  and  looking  round  to 
see  that  the  other  women  were  following.  'Look 
sharp,  Isaac!' 

'Safe  and  sound/  replied  the  man  with  the  ash  stick. 
The  door  swung  heavily  after  them,  and  they  de- 
scended a  small  flight  of  steps. 

"Here  we  are,  at  last.  All  right  and  tight,  Mrs. 
Bardell !'  said  Jackson,  looking  exultingly  round. 

'What  do  you  mean?'  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  pal- 
pitating heart. 

'Just  this,'  replied  Jackson,  drawing  her  a  little  on 
one  side;  'don't  be  frightened,  Mrs.  Bardell.  There 
never  was  a  more  delicate  man  than  Dodson,  ma'am, 
or  a  more  humane  man  than  Fogg.  It  was  their  duty, 
in  the  way  of  business,  to  take  you  in  execution  for 
them  costs ;  but  they  were  anxious  to  spare  your  feel- 
ings as  much  as  they  could.  What  a  comfort  it  must 
be  to  you,  to  think  how  it 's  been  done !  This  is  the 
Fleet,  ma'am.  Wish  you  good  night,  Mrs.  Bardell. 
Good  night,  Tommy !' 

As  Jackson  hurried  away  in  company  with  the  man 
with  the  ash  stick,  another  man  with  a  key  in  his  hand, 
who  had  been  looking  on,  led  the  bewildered  female 
to  a  second  short  flight  of  steps  leading  to  a  doorway. 
Mrs.  Bardell  screamed  violently;  Tommy  roared; 
Mrs.  Cluppins  shrunk  within  herself;  and  Mrs.  Sand- 


330  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ers  made  off,  without  more  ado.  For,  there,  stood  the 
injured  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  his  nightly  allowance  of 
air;  and  beside  him  leant  Samuel  Weller,  who,  seeing 
Mrs.  Bardell,  took  his  hat  off  with  mock  reverence, 
while  his  master  turned  indignantly  on  his  heel. 

'Don't  bother  the  woman,'  said  the  turnkey  to 
Weller:  'she  's  just  come  in.' 

'A  pris'ner!'  said  Sam,  quickly  replacing  his  hat. 
'Who  's  the  plaintives?  What  for?  Speak  up,  old 
feller.' 

'Dodson  and  Fogg,'  replied  the  man ;  'execution  on 
cognovit  for  costs.' 

'Here  Job,  Job!'  shouted  Sam,  dashing  into  the 
passage.  'Run  to  Mr.  Perker's,  Job.  I  want  him 
directly.  I  see  some  good  in  this.  Here  's  a  game. 
Hooray !  where  's  the  gov'ner !' 

But  there  was  no  reply  to  these  inquiries,  for  Job 
had  started  furiously  off,  the  instant  he  received  his 
commission,  and  Mrs.  Bardell  had  fainted  in  real 
down-right  earnest. 


CHAPTER  XL VII 

IS  CHIEFLY  DEVOTED  TO  MATTERS  OF  BUSINESS,  AND 
THE  TEMPORAL  ADVANTAGE  OF  DODSON  AND  FOGG. 
MR.  WINKLE  REAPPEARS  UNDER  EXTRAORDINARY 
CIRCUMSTANCES.  MR.  PICKWICK*S  BENEVOLENCE 
PROVES  STRONGER  THAN  HIS  OBSTINACY 

JOB  TROTTER,  abating  nothing  of  his  speed,  ran  up 
Holborn :  sometimes  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  some- 
times on  the  pavement,  sometimes  in  the  gutter,  as  the 
chances  of  getting  along,  varied  with  the  press  of 
men,  women,  children,  and  coaches,  in  each  division 
of  the  thoroughfare;  regardless  of  all  obstacles,  he 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  331 

stopped  not  for  an  instant  until  he  reached  the  gate  of 
Gray's  Inn.  Notwithstanding  all  the  expedition  he 
had  used,  however,  the  gate  had  been  closed  a  good 
half-hour  when  he  reached  it,  and  by  the  time  he  had 
discovered  Mr.  Perker's  laundress,  who  lived  with  a 
married  daughter,  who  had  bestowed  her  hand  upon 
a  non-resident  waiter,  who  occupied  the  one-pair  of 
some  number  in  some  street  closely  adjoining  to  some 
brewery  somewhere  behind  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  it  was 
within  fifteen  minutes  of  closing  the  prison  for  the 
night.  Mr.  Lowten  had  still  to  be  ferreted  out  from 
the  back-parlour  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump ;  and  Job 
had  scarcely  accomplished  this  object,  and  communi- 
cated Sam  Weller's  message,  when  the  clock  struck 
ten. 

'There,'  said  Lowten,  'it 's  too  late  now.  You  can't 
get  in  to-night;  you  Ve  got  the  key  of  the  Street,  my 
friend.' 

'Never  mind  me,'  replied  Job.  'I  can  sleep  any- 
where. But  won't  it  be  better  to  see  Mr.  Perker  to- 
night, so  that  we  may  be  there,  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning?' 

'Why,'  responded  Lowten,  after  a  little  considera- 
tion, 'if  it  was  in  anybody  else's  case,  Perker  wouldn't 
be  best  pleased  at  my  going  up  to  his  house ;  but  as  it 's 
Mr.  Pickwick's,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  take  a  cab 
and  charge  it  to  the  office.'  Deciding  on  this  line  of 
conduct,  Mr.  Lowten  took  up  his  hat,  and  begging  the 
assembled  company  to  appoint  a  deputy-chairman 
during  his  temporary  absence,  led  the  way  to  the  near- 
est coach-stand.  Summoning  the  cab  of  most  prom- 
ising appearance,  he  directed  the  driver  to  repair  to 
Montague  Place,  Russell  Square. 

Mr.  Perker  had  had  a  dinner  party  that  day,  as  was 
testified  by  the  appearance  of  lights  in  the  drawing- 
room  windows,  the  sound  of  an  improved  grand  piano. 


332  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  an  improvable  cabinet  voice  issuing  therefrom, 
and  a  rather  overpowering  smell  of  meat  which  per- 
vaded the  steps  and  entry.  In  fact,  a  couple  of  very 
good  country  agencies  happening  to  come  up 
to  town,  at  the  same  time,  an  agreeable  little 
party  had  been  got  together  to  meet  them:  com- 
prising Mr.  Snicks  the  Life  Office  Secretary, 
Mr.  Prosee  the  eminent  counsel,  three  solici- 
tors, one  commissioner  of  bankrupts,  a  special 
pleader  from  the  Temple,  a  small-eyed  peremptory 
young  gentleman,  his  pupil,  who  had  written  a  lively 
book  about  the  law  of  demises,  with  a  vast  quantity  of 
marginal  notes  and  references ;  and  several  other  emi- 
nent and  distinguished  personages.  From  this 
society,  little  Mr.  Perker  detached  himself,  on  his 
clerk  being  announced  in  a  whisper;  and  repairing  to 
the  dining  room,  there  found  Mr.  Lowten  and  Job 
Trotter  looking  very  dim  and  shadowy  by  the  light  of 
a  kitchen  candle,  which  the  gentleman  who  conde- 
scended to  appear  in  plush  shorts  and  cottons  for  a 
quarterly  stipend,  had,  with  a  becoming  contempt  for 
the  clerk  and  all  things  appertaining  to  'the  office,' 
placed  upon  the  table. 

'Now,  Lowten,'  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  shutting  the 
door,  'what 's  the  matter  ?  No  important  letter  come 
in  a  parcel,  is  there?' 

'No,  sir,'  replied  Lowten.  'This  is  a  messenger 
from  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir.' 

'From  Pickwick,  eh?'  said  the  little  man,  turning 
quickly  to  Job.  'Well,  what  is  it?' 

'Dodson  and  Fogg  have  taken  Mrs.  Bardell  in  exe-t 
cution  for  her  costs,  sir,'  said  Job. 

'No!'  exclaimed  Perker,  putting  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  reclining  against  the  sideboard. 

'Yes,'  said  Job.     'It  seems  they  got  a  cognovit  out 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  333 

of  her,  for  the  amount  of  'em,  directly  after  the  trial.' 

'By  Jove!'  said  Perker,  taking  both  hands  out  of  his 
pockets,  and  striking  the  knuckles  of  his  right  against 
the  palm  of  his  left,  emphatically,  'those  are  the  clev- 
erest scamps  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with !' 

'The  sharpest  practitioners  I  ever  knew,  sir,'  ob- 
served Lowten. 

'Sharp!'  echoed  Perker.  'There's  no  knowing 
where  to  have  them.' 

'Very  true,  sir,  there  is  not,'  replied  Lowten;  and 
then,  both  master  and  man  pondered  for  a  few  sec- 
onds, with  animated  countenances,  as  if  they  were  re- 
flecting upon  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  ingenious 
discoveries  that  the  intellect  of  man  had  ever  made. 
When  they  had  in  some  measure  recovered  from  their 
trance  of  admiration,  Job  Trotter  discharged  himself 
of  the  rest  of  his  commission.  Perker  nodded  his 
head  thoughtfully,  and  pulled  out  his  watch. 

'At  ten  precisely,  I  will  be  there,'  said  the  little  man. 
'Sam  is  quite  right.  Tell  him  so.  Will  you  take  a 
glass  of  wine,  Lowten?' 

'No,  thank  you,  sir.' 

'You  mean  yes,  I  think/  said  the  little  man,  turning 
to  the  sideboard  for  a  decanter  and  glasses. 

As  Lowten  did  mean  yes,  he  said  no  more  on  the 
subject,  but  inquired  of  Job,  in  an  audible  whisper, 
whether  the  portrait  of  Perker,  which  hung  opposite 
the  fire-place,  wasn't  a  wonderful  likeness,  to  which, 
Job  of  course  replied  that  it  was.  The  wine  being 
by  this  time  poured  out,  Lowten  drank  to  Mrs.  Perker 
and  the  children,  and  Job  to  Perker.  The  gentle- 
man in  the  plush  shorts  and  cottons  considering  it  no 
part  of  his  duty  to  show  the  people  from  the  office 
out,  consistently  declined  to  answer  the  bell,  and  they 
showed  themselves  out.  The  attorney  betook  himseli 


334  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

to  his  drawing-room,  the  clerk  to  the  Magpie  and 
Stump,  and  Job  to  Covent  Garden  Market  to  spend 
the  night  in  a  vegetable  basket. 

Punctually  at  the  appointed  hour  next  morning, 
the  good-humoured  little  attorney  tapped  at  Mr. 
Pickwick's  door,  which  was  opened  with  great  alacrity 
by  Sam  Weller. 

'Mr.  Perker,  sir,'  said  Sam,  announcing  the  visitor 
to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  sitting  at  the  window  in  a 
thoughtful  attitude.  'Wery  glad  you  Ve  looked  in 
accidentally,  sir.  I  rather  think  the  gov'ner  wants  to 
have  a  word  and  a  half  with  you,  sir.' 

Perker  bestowed  a  look  of  intelligence  on  Sam,  inti- 
mating that  he  understood  he  was  not  to  say  he  had 
been  sent  for;  and  beckoning  him  to  approach,  whis- 
pered briefly  in  his  ear. 

'You  don't  mean  that  'ere,  sir?'  said  Sam,  starting 
back  in  excessive  surprise. 

Perker  nodded  and  smiled. 

Mr.  Samuel  Weller  looked  at  the  little  lawyer,  then 
at  Mr.  Pickwick,  then  at  the  ceiling,  then  at  Perker 
again;  grinned,  laughed  outright,  and  finally,  catch- 
ing up  his  hat  from  the  carpet,  without  further  expla- 
nation, disappeared. 

'What  does  this  mean?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'ooking  at  Perker  with  astonishment.  'What  has  put 
Sam  into  this  most  extraordinary  state?' 

'Oh,  nothing,  nothing,'  replied  Perker.  "Come, 
my  dear  sir,  draw  up  your  chair  to  the  table.  I  have 
a  good  deal  to  say  to  you.' 

'What  papers  are  those?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  as 
the  little  man  deposited  on  the  table  a  small  bundle  of 
documents  tied  with  red  tape. 

'The  papers  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick,'  replied 
Perker,  undoing  the  knot  with  his  teeth. 

Mr.  Pickwick  grated  the  legs  of  his  chair  a«riir»st 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  335 

the  ground;  and  throwing  himself  into  it,  folded  his 
hands  and  looked  sternly— if  Mr.  Pickwick  ever  could 
look  sternly — at  his  legal  friend. 

'You  don't  like  to  hear  the  name  of  the  cause?'  said 
the  little  man,  still  busying  himself  with  the  knot. 

'^No,  I  do  not  indeed/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Sorry  for  that,'  resumed  Perker,  'because  it  will 
form  the  subject  of  our  conversation.' 

'I  would  rather  that  the  subject  should  be  never 
mentioned  between  us,  Perker,'  interposed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, hastily. 

'Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  sir,'  said  the  little  man,  unty- 
ing the  bundle,  and  glancing  eagerly  at  Mr.  Pickwick- 
out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  rlt  must  be  men- 
tioned. I  have  come  here  on  purpose.  Now,  are  you 
ready  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say,  my  dear  sir?  No 
hurry ;  if  you  are  not,  I  can  wait.  I  have  this  morn- 
ing's paper  here.  Your  time  shall  be  mine.  There!' 
Hereupon,  the  little  man  threw  one  leg  over  the  other, 
and  made  a  show  of  beginning  to  read  with  great 
composure  and  application. 

'Well,  well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  sigh,  but 
softening  into  a  smile  at  the  same  time.  'Say  what 
you  have  to  say;  it 's  the  old  story,  I  suppose?' 

'With  a  difference,  my  dear  sir;  with  a  difference,' 
rejoined  Perker,  deliberately  folding  up  the  paper 
and  putting  it  into  his  pocket  again.  'Mrs.  Bardell, 
the  plaintiff  in  the  action,  is  within  these  walls,  sir.' 

'I  know  it/  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  reply. 

'Very  good/  retorted  Perker.  'And  you  know  how 
she  comes  here,  I  suppose;  I  mean  on  what  grounds, 
and  at  whose  suit?' 

'Yes;  at  least  I  have  heard  Sam's  account  of  the 
matter/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  affected  careless- 
ness. 

'Sam's  account  of  the  matter/  replied  Perker,  is,  1 


336  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

will  venture  to  say,  a  perfectly  correct  one.  Well 
now,  my  dear  sir,  the  first  question  I  have  to  ask,  is, 
whether  this  woman  is  to  remain  here?' 

'To  remain  here!'  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'To  remain  here,  my  dear  sir,'  rejoined  Perker, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  looking  steadily  at  his 
client. 

'How  can  you  ask  me?'  said  that  gentleman.  'It 
rests  with  Dodson  and  Fogg;  you  know  that,  very 
well/ 

'I  know  nothing  of  the  kind,'  retorted  Perker, 
firmly.  'It  does  not  rest  with  Dodson  and  Fogg ;  you 
know  the  men,  my  dear  sir,  as  well  as  I  do.  It  rests 
solely,  wholly,  and  entirely  with  you.' 

'With  me!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  nerv- 
ously from  his  chair,  and  reseating  himself  directly 
afterwards. 

The  little  man  gave  a  double  knock  on  the  lid  of 
his  snuff-box,  opened  it,  took  a  great  pinch,  shut  it 
up  again,  and  repeated  the  words,  'With  you.' 

'I  say,  my  dear  sir,'  resumed  the  little  man,  who 
seemed  to  gather  confidence  from  the  snuff;  'I  say, 
that  her  speedy  liberation  or  perpetual  imprisonment 
rests  with  you,  and  with  you  alone.  Hear  me  out,  my 
dear  sir,  if  you  please,  and  do  not  be  so  very  energetic, 
for  it  will  only  put  you  in  a  perspiration  and  do  no 
good  whatever.  I  say,'  continued  Perker,  checking 
off  each  position  on  different  fingers,  as  he  laid  it 
down ;  'I  say  that  nobody  but  you  can  rescue  her  from 
this  den  of  wretchedness;  and  that  you  can  only  do 
that,  by  paying  the  costs  of  this  suit — both  of  plaintiff 
and  defendant — into  the  hands  of  these  Freeman's 
Court  sharks.  Now  pray  be  quiet,  my  dear  sir.' 

Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  face  had  been  undergoing 
most  surprising  changes  during  this  speech,  and  who 
was  evidently  on  the  verge  of  a  strong  burst  of  indig- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  337 

nation,  calmed  his  wrath  as  well  as  he  could.  Perker, 
strengthening  his  argumentative  powers  with  another 
pinch  of  snuff,  proceeded. 

'I  have  seen  the  woman,  this  morning.  By  paying 
the  costs,  you  can  obtain  a  full  release  and  discharge 
from  the  damages ;  and  further — this  I  know  is  a  far 
greater  object  of  consideration  with  you,  my  dear  sir 
—a  voluntary  statement,  under  her  hand,  in  the  form 
of  a  letter  to  me,  that  this  business  was,  from  the  very 
first,  fomented,  and  encouraged,  and  brought  about, 
by  these  men,  Dodson  and  Fogg;  that  she  deeply  re- 
grets ever  having  been  the  instrument  of  annoyance 
or  injury  to  you;  and  that  she  entreats  me  to  inter- 
cede with  you,  and  implore  your  pardon.' 

'If  I  pay  her  costs  for  her,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in- 
dignantly. 'A  valuable  document,  indeed !' 

'No  "if"  in  the  case,  my  dear  sir,'  said  Perker, 
triumphantly.  'There  is  the  very  letter  I  speak  of. 
Brought  to  my  office  by  another  woman  at  nine 
o'clock  this  morning,  before  I  had  set  foot  in  this 
place,  or  held  any  communication  with  Mrs.  Bardell, 
upon  my  honour.'  Selecting  the  letter  from  the 
bundle,  the  little  lawyer  laid  it  at  Mr.  Pickwick's 
elbow,  and  took  snuff  for  two  consecutive  minutes, 
without  winking. 

'Is  this  all  you  have  to  say  to  me?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  mildly. 

'Not  quite,'  replied  Perker.  'I  cannot  undertake 
to  say,  at  this  moment,  whether  the  wording  of  the 
cognovit,  the  nature  of  the  ostensible  consideration, 
and  the  proof  we  can  get  together  about  the  whole 
conduct  of  the  suit,  will  be  sufficient  to  justify  an 
indictment  for  conspiracy.  I  fear  not,  my  dear  sir; 
they  are  too  clever  for  that,  I  doubt.  I  do  mean  to 
say,  however,  that  the  whole  facts,  taken  to- 
gether, will  be  sufficient  to  justify  you,  in  the 


338  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

minds  of  all  reasonable  men.  And  now,  my 
dear  sir,  I  put  it  to  you.  This  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,  or  whatever  it  may  be — take 
it  in  round  numbers — is  nothing  to  you.  A  jury 
has  decided  against  you;  well,  their  verdict  is 
wrong,  but  still  they  decided  as  they  thought  right, 
and  it  is  against  you.  You  have  now  an  opportunity, 
on  easy  terms,  of  placing  yourself  in  a  much  higher 
position  than  you  ever  could,  by  remaining  here; 
which  would  only  be  imputed,  by  people  who  didn't 
know  you,  to  sheer  dogged,  wrongheaded,  brutal  ob- 
stinacy: nothing  else,  my  dear  sir,  believe  me.  Can 
you  hesitate  to  avail  yourself  of  it,  when  it  restores 
you  to  your  friends,  your  old  pursuits,  your  health  and 
amusements;  when  it  liberates  your  faithful  and  at- 
tached servant,  whom  you  otherwise  doom  to  imprison- 
ment for  the  whole  of  your  life ;  and  above  all,  when 
it  enables  you  to  take  the  very  magnanimous  revenge 
— which  I  know,  my  dear  sir,  is  one  after  your  own 
heart — of  releasing  this  woman  from  a  scene  of 
misery  and  debauchery,  to  which  no  man  should  ever 
be  consigned,  if  I  had  my  will,  but  the  infliction  of 
which  on  any  woman,  is  even  more  frightful  and  bar- 
barous. Now  I  ask  you,  my  dear  sir,  not  only  as  your 
legal  adviser,  but  as  your  very  true  friend, 
will  you  let  slip  the  occasion  of  attaining  all 
these  objects,  and  doing  all  this  good,  for  the 
paltry  consideration  of  a  few  pounds  finding 
their  way  into  the  pockets  of  a  couple  of 
rascals,  to  whom  it  makes  no  manner  of  differ- 
ence, except  that  the  more  they  gain,  the  more  they  '11 
seek,  and  so  the  sooner  be  led  into  some  piece  of  knav- 
ery that  must  end  in  a  crash?  I  have  put  these  con- 
siderations to  you,  my  dear  sir,  very  feebly  and  im- 
perfectly, but  ask  you  to  think  of  them.  Turn  them 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  339 

over  in  your  mind  as  long  as  you  please.  I  wait  here 
most  patiently  for  your  answer.' 

Before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  reply;  before  Mr. 
Perker  had  taken  one  twentieth  part  of  the  snuff  with 
which  so  unusually  long  an  address  imperatively  re- 
quired to  be  followed  up ;  there  was  a  low  murmur- 
ing of  voices  outside,  and  then  a  hesitating  knock  at 
the  door. 

'Dear,  dear/  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been 
evidently  roused  by  his  friend's  appeal;  'what  an 
annoyance  that  door  is!  Who  is  that?' 

'Me,  sir,'  replied  Sam  Weller,  putting  in  his  head. 

'I  can't  speak  to  you  just  now,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, 'I  am  engaged  at  this  moment,  Sam.' 

'Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller. 
'But  here  's  a  lady  here,  sir,  as  says  she  's  somethin' 
wery  partickler  to  disclose.' 

'I  can't  see  any  lady,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose 
mind  was  filled  with  visions  of  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'I  vouldn't  make  too  sure  o'  that,  sir,'  urged  Mr. 
Weller,  shaking  his  head.  'If  you  know'd  who  was 
near,  sir,  I  rayther  think  you  'd  change  your  note. 
As  the  hawk  remarked  to  himself  with  a  cheerful 
laugh,  ven  he  heerd  the  robin  redbreast  a  singin'  round 
the  corner.' 

'Who  is  it  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Will  you  see  her,  sir?'  asked  Mr.  Weller,  holding 
the  door  in  his  hand  as  if  he  had  some  curious  live 
animal  on  the  other  side. 

'I  suppose  I  must,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at 
Perker. 

'Well,  then,  all  in  to  begin !'  cried  Sam.  'Sound  the 
gong,  draw  up  the  curtain,  and  enter  the  two  con- 
spiraytors.' 

As  Sam  Weller  spoke,  he  threw  the  door  open,  and 


340  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

there  rushed  tumultuously  into  the  room,  Mr.  Na- 
thaniel Winkle:  leading  after  him  by  the  hand,  the 
identical  young  lady  who  at  Dingley  Dell  had  worn 
the  boots  with  the  fur  round  the  tops,  and  who,  now 
a  very  pleasing  compound  of  blushes  and  confusion 
and  lilac  silk  and  a  smart  bonnet  and  a  rich  lace  veil, 
looked  prettier  than  ever. 

'Miss  Arabella  Allen!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
rising  from  his  chair. 

'No,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  dropping  on  his  knees, 
'Mrs.  Winkle.  Pardon,  my  dear  friend,  pardon  ?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of 
his  senses,  and  perhaps  would  not  have  done  so,  but 
for  the  corroborative  testimony  afforded  by  the  smil- 
ing countenance  of  Perker,  and  the  bodily  presence, 
in  the  back-ground,  of  Sam  and  the  pretty  housemaid ; 
who  appeared  to  contemplate  the  proceedings  with 
the  liveliest  satisfaction. 

'Oh,  Mr.  Pickwick!'  said  Arabella,  in  a  low  voice, 
as  if  alarmed  at  the  silence.  'Can  you  forgive  my 
imprudence  ?' 

Mr.  Pickwick  returned  no  verbal  response  to  this  ap- 
peal ;  but  he  took  off  his  spectacles  in  great  haste,  and 
seizing  both  the  young  lady's  hands  in  his,  kissed  her  a 
great  number  of  times — perhaps  a  greater  number 
than  was  absolutely  necessary — and  then,  still  retain- 
ing one  of  her  hands,  told  Mr.  Winkle  he  was  an  auda- 
cious young  dog,  and  bade  him  get  up.  This,  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  had  been  for  some  seconds  scratching 
his  nose  with  the  brim  of  his  hat,  in  a  penitent  man- 
ner, did;  whereupon  Mr.  Pickwick  slapped  him  on 
the  back  several  times,  and  then  shook  hands  heartily 
with  Perker,  who,  not  to  be  behind-hand  in  the  compli- 
ments of  the  occasion,  saluted  both  the  bride  and  the 
pretty  housemaid  with  right  good  will,  and,  having 
wrung  Mr.  Winkle's  hand  most  cordially,  wound  up 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  341 

his  demonstrations  of  joy  by  taking  snuff  enough  to 
set  any  half-dozen  men  with  ordinarily  constructed 
noses,  sneezing  for  life. 

'Why,  my  dear  girl/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'how  has 
all  this  come  about?  Come!  Sit  down,  and  let  me 
hear  it  all.  How  well  she  looks,  doesn't  she,  Perker?' 
added  Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  Arabella's  face  with 
a  look  of  as  much  pride  and  exultation,  as  if  she  had 
been  his  daughter. 

'Delightful,  my  dear  sir/  replied  the  little  man. 
'If  I  were  not  a  married  man  myself,  I  should  be  dis- 
posed to  envy  you,  you  dog.'  Thus  expressing  him- 
self, the  little  lawyer  gave  Mr.  Winkle  a  poke  in  the 
chest,  which  that  gentleman  reciprocated ;  after  which 
they  both  laughed  very  loudly,  but  not  so  loudly  as 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller.  Who  had  just  relieved  his  feel- 
ings by  kissing  the  pretty  housemaid,  under  cover  of 
the  cupboard-door. 

'I  can  never  be  grateful  enough  to  you,  Sam,  I  am 
sure,'  said  Arabella,  with  the  sweetest  smile  imagina- 
ble. 'I  shall  not  forget  your  exertions  in  the  garden 
at  Clifton.' 

'Don't  say  nothin'  wotever  about  it,  ma'am,'  replied 
Sam.  'I  only  assisted  natur',  ma'am;  as  the  doctor 
said  to  the  boy's  mother,  arter  he'd  bled  him  to 
death.' 

'Mary,  my  dear,  sit  down/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  cut- 
ting short  these  compliments.  'Now  then ;  how  long 
have  you  been  married,  eh  ?' 

Arabella  looked  bashfully  at  her  lord  and  master, 
who  replied,  'Only  three  days.' 

'Only  three  days,  eh?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ^  'Why, 
what  have  you  been  doing  these  three  months?' 

'Ah,  to  be  sure!'  interposed  Perker;  'come!  Ac- 
count for  this  idleness.  You  see  Pickwick's  only  as- 
tonishment is,  that  is  wasn't  all  over,  months  ago.' 


342  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Why,  the  fact  is,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  looking  at 
his  blushing  young  wife,  'that  I  could  not  persuade 
Bella  to  run  away,  for  a  long  time.  And  when  I  had 
persuaded  her,  it  was  a  long  time  more,  before  we 
could  find  an  opportunity.  Mary  had  to  give  a 
month's  warning,  too,  before  she  could  leave  her 
place  next  door,  and  we  couldn't  possibly  have  done  it 
without  her  assistance.' 

'Upon  my  word,'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  by 
this  time  had  resumed  his  spectacles,  and  was  looking 
from  Arabella  to  Winkle,  and  from  Winkle  to  Ara- 
bella, with  as  much  delight  depicted  in  his  countenance 
as  warm-heartedness  and  kindly  feeling  can  communi- 
cate to  the  human  face:  'upon  my  word!  you  seem  to 
have  been  very  systematic  in  your  proceedings.  And 
is  your  brother  acquainted  with  all  this,  my  dear  ?' 

'Oh,  no,  no,'  replied  Arabella,  changing  colour. 
'Dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  must  only  know  it  from  you— 
from  your  lips  alone.  He  is  so  violent,  so  prejudiced, 
and  has  been  so — so  anxious  in  behalf  of  his  friend, 
Mr.  Sawyer,'  added  Arabella,  looking  down,  'that  I 
fear  the  consequences  dreadfully.' 

'Ah,  to  be  sure,'  said  Perker  gravely.  'You  must 
take  this  matter  in  hand  for  them,  my  dear  sir.  These 
young  men  will  respect  you,  when  they  would  listen 
to  nobody  else.  You  must  prevent  mischief,  my  dear 
sir.  Hot  blood,  hot  blood.'  And  the  little  man  took 
a  warning  pinch,  and  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

'You  forget,  my  love,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gently, 
'you  forget  that  I  am  a  prisoner.' 

'No,  indeed  I  do  not,  my  dear  sir,'  replied  Arabella. 
'I  never  have  forgotten  it.  I  have  never  ceased  to  . 
think  how  great  your  sufferings  must  have  been  in 
this  shocking  place.  But  I  hoped  that  what  no  con- 
sideration for  yourself  would  induce  you  to  do,  a  re- 
gard to  our  happiness,  might.  If  my  brother  hears  of 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  343 

this  first  from  you,  I  feel  certain  we  shall  be  reconciled. 
He  is  my  only  relation  in  the  world,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  unless  you  plead  for  me,  I  fear  I  have  lost  even 
him.  I  have  done  wrong,  very,  very  wrong,  I  know.' 
Here  poor  Arabella  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief, 
and  wept  bitterly. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  nature  was  a  good  deal  worked 
upon,  by  these  same  tears;  but  when  Mrs.  Winkle, 
drying  her  eyes,  took  to  coaxing  and  entreating  in  t  he- 
sweetest  tones  of  a  very  sweet  voice,  he  became  par- 
ticularly restless,  and  evidently  undecided  how  to  act. 
As  was  evinced  by  sundry  nervous  rubbings  of  his 
spectacle-glasses,  nose,  tights,  head,  and  gaiters. 

Taking  advantage  of  these  symptoms  of  indeci- 
sion, Mr.  Perker  (to  whom,  it  appeared,  the  young 
couple  had  driven  straight  that  morning)  urged  with 
legal  point  and  shrewdness  that  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 
was  still  unacquainted  with  the  important  rise  in  life's 
flight  of  steps  which  his  son  had  taken ;  that  the  future 
expectations  of  the  said  son  depended  entirely  upon 
the  said  Winkle,  senior,  continuing  to  regard  him  with 
undiminished  feelings  of  affection  and  attachment, 
which  it  was  very  unlikely  he  would,  if  this  great 
event  were  long  kept  a  secret  from  him;  that  Mr. 
Pickwick,  repairing  to  Bristol  to  seek  Mr.  Allen, 
might,  with  equal  reason,  repair  to  Birmingham  to 
seek  Mr.  Winkle,  senior;  lastly,  that  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior,  had  good  right  and  title  to  consider  Mr.  Pick 
wick  as  in  some  degree  the  guardian  and  adviser  of  his 
son,  and  that  it  consequently  behoved  that  gentleman, 
and  was  indeed  due  to  his  personal  character,  to  ac- 
quaint the  aforesaid  Winkle,  senior,  personally,  and 
bv  word  of  mouth,  with  the  whole  circumstances  of 
the  case,  and  with  the  share  he  had  taken  in  the  tran 

action. 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  arrived,  most  op- 


344  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

portunely,  in  this  stage  of  the  pleadings,  and  as  it 
was  necessary  to  explain  to  them  all  that  had  occurred, 
together  with  the  various  reasons  pro  and  con,  the 
whole  of  the  arguments  were  gone  over  again,  after 
which  everybody  urged  every  argument  in  his  own 
way,  and  at  his  own  length.  And,  at  last,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, fairly  argued  and  remonstrated  out  of  all  his 
resolutions,  and  being  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
argued  and  remonstrated  out  of  his  wits,  caught  Ara- 
bella in  his  arms,  and  declaring  that  she  was  a  very 
amiable  creature,  and  that  he  didn't  know  how  it  was, 
but  he  had  always  been  very  fond  of  her  from  the 
frrst,  said  he  could  never  find  it  in  his  heart  to  stand 
in  the  way  of  young  people's  happiness,  and  they 
might  do  with  him  as  they  pleased. 

Mr.  Weller's  first  act,  on  hearing  this  concession, 
was  to  despatch  Job  Trotter  to  the  illustrious  Mr. 
Pell,  with  an  authority  to  deliver  to  the  bearer  the 
formal  discharge  which  his  prudent  parent  had  had 
the  foresight  to  leave  in  the  hands  of  that  learned 
gentleman,  in  case  it  should  be,  at  any  time,  required 
on  an  emergency;  his  next  proceeding  was,  to  invest 
his  whole  stock  of  ready  money,  in  the  purchase  of 
five-and-twenty  gallons  of  mild  porter :  which  he  him- 
self dispensed  on  the  racket-ground  to  everybody  who 
would  partake  of  it;  this  done,  he  hurra' d  in  divers 
parts  of  the  building  until  he  lost  his  voice,  and  then 
quietly  relapsed  into  his  usual  collected  and  philo- 
sophical condition. 

At  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  Mr.  Pickwick  took 
a  last  look  at  his  little  room,  and  made  his  way,  as  well 
as  he  could,  through  the  throng  of  debtors  who  pressed  ' 
eagerly  forward  to  shake  him  by  the  hand,  until  he 
reached  the  lodge  steps.  He  turned  here,  to  look 
about  him,  and  his  eye  lightened  as  he  did  so.  In  all 
the  crowd  of  wan,  emaciated  faces,  he  saw  not  one 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  345 

WaS  n0t  t  and 


'Perker,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  beckoning  one  young 
man  towards  him,  'this  is  Mr.  Jingle,  whom  I  spoke 
to  you  about. 

'Very  good,  my  dear  sir/  replied  Perker,  looking 
hard  at  Jingle.  'You  will  see  me  again,  young  man, 
to-morrow.  I  hope  you  may  live  to  remember  and 
1  eel  deeply,  what  I  shall  have  to  communicate,  sir.' 

Jingle  bowed  respectfully,  trembled  very  much  as 
he  took  Mr.  Pickwick's  proffered  hand,  and  withdrew. 
'Job  you  know,  I  think?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pre- 
senting that  gentleman. 

'I  know  the  rascal,'  replied  Perker,  good-humour- 
edly.  'See  after  your  friend,  and  be  in  the  way  to- 
morrow at  one.  Do  you  hear?  Now,  is  there  'any- 
thing more?' 

'Nothing,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  'You  have  de- 
livered the  little  parcel  I  gave  you  for  your  old  land- 
lord, Sam?' 

'I  have,  sir,'  replied  Sam.  'He  bu'st  out  a  cryin', 
sir,  and  said  you  wos  wrery  gen'rous  and  thoughtful, 
and  he  only  wished  you  could  have  him  innokilated  for 
a  gallopin'  consumption,  for  his  old  friend  as  had 
lived  here  so  long,  wos  dead,  and  he  'd  nowheres  to 
look  for  another.' 

'Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'God  bless  you,  my  friends!' 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  uttered  this  adieu,  the  crowd 
raised  a  loud  shout.  Many  among  them  were  press- 
ing forward  to  shake  him  by  the  hand,  again,  when  he 
drew  his  arm  through  Perker's,  and  hurried  from  the 
prison  :  far  more  sad  and  melancholy,  for  the  moment, 
than  when  he  had  first  entered  it.  Alas!  how  many 
sad  and  unhappy  beings  had  he  left  behind  him  ! 
A  happy  evening  was  that,  for,  at  least,  one  party 


346  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

in  the  George  and  Vulture;  and  light  and  cheerful 
were  two  of  the  hearts  that  emerged  from  its  hospita- 
ble door  next  morning.  The  owners  thereof  were 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller,  the  former  of  whom 
was  speedily  deposited  inside  a  comfortable  post- 
coach,  with  a  little  dickey  behind,  in  which  the  latter 
mounted  with  great  agility. 

'Sir,'  called  out  Mr.  Weller  to  his  master. 

'Well,  Sam,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  his 
head  out  of  the  window. 

'I  wish  them  horses  had  been  three  months  and  bet- 
ter in  the  Fleet,  sir.' 

'Why,  Sam?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wy,  sir,'  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  rubbing  his  hands, 
'how  they  would  go  if  they  had  been !' 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

RELATES  HOW  MR.  PICKWICK,  WITH  THE  ASSISTANCE 
OF  SAMUEL  WELLER,  ESSAYED  TO  SOFTEN  THE  HEART 
OF  MR.  BENJAMIN  ALLEN,  AND  TO  MOLLIFY  THE 
WRATH  OF  MR.  ROBERT  SAWYER 

MR.  BEN  ALLEN  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  sat  together 
in  the  little  surgery  behind  the  shop,  discussing 
minced  veal  and  future  prospects,  when  the  discourse, 
not  unnaturally,  turned  upon  the  practice  acquired  by 
Bob  the  aforesaid,  and  his  present  chances  of  deriv- 
ing a  competent  independence  from  the  honourable 
profession  to  which  he  had  devoted  himself. 

' — Which,  I  think,'  observed  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  pur-* 
suing  the  thread  of  the  subject,  'which,  I  think,  Ben, 
are  rather  dubious.' 

'What 's  rather  dubious  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  347 

at  the   same  time  sharpening  his  intellects  with  a 
draught  of  beer.     'What 's  dubious?' 

'Why,  the  chances,'  responded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'I  forgot,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  'The  beer  has  re- 
minded me  that  I  forgot,  Bob — yes;  they  are  dubious.' 

'It 's  wonderful  how  the  poor  people  patronise  me,' 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  reflectively.  'They  knock  me 
up,  at  all  hours  of  the  night;  they  take  medicine  to 
an  extent  which  I  should  have  conceived  impossible; 
they  put  on  blisters  and  leeches  with  a  perseveran  re- 
worthy  of  a  better  cause;  they  make  additions  to  their 
families  in  a  manner  wrhich  is  quite  awful.  Six  <>!' 
those  last-named  little  promissory  notes,  all  due  on  the 
same  day,  Ben,  and  all  intrusted  to  me!' 

'It 's  very  gratifying,  isn't  it?'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
holding  his  plate  for  some  more  minced  veal. 

'Oh,  very,'  replied  Bob ;  'only  not  quite  so  much  so, 
as  the  confidence  of  patients  with  a  shilling  or  two  to 
spare,  would  be.  This  business  was  capitally  de- 
scribed in  the  advertisement,  Ben.  It  is  a  practice,  a 
very  extensive  practice — and  that 's  all.' 

'Bob,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  laying  down  his  knife 
and  fork,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  visage  of  his 
friend:  'Bob,  I  '11  tell  you 'what  it  is.' 

'What  is  it?'  inquired  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'You  must  make  yourself,  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible,  master  of  Arabella's  one  thousand  pounds.' 

'Three  per  cent,  consolidated  Bank  annuities,  now 
standing  in  her  name  in  the  book  or  books  of  the  Gov- 
ernor and  Company  of  the  Bank  of  England,'  added 
Bob  Sawyer,  in  legal  phraseology. 

'Exactly  so,'  said  Ben.  'She  has  it  when  she  comes 
of  age,  or  marries.  She  wants  a  year  of  coming  of 
age,  and  if  you  plucked  up  a  spirit  she  needn't  want 
a  month  of  being  married.' 


348  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'She  's  a  very  charming  and  delightful  creature,' 
quoth  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer,  in  reply ;  'and  has  only  one 
fault  that  I  know  of,  Ben.  It  happens,  unfortu- 
nately, that  that  single  blemish  is  a  want  of  taste. 
She  don't  like  me.' 

*It  's  my  opinion  that  she  don't  know  what  she  does 
like,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  contemptuously. 

'Perhaps  not,'  remarked  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  'But 
it 's  my  opinion  that  she  does  know  what  she  doesn't 
like,  and  that 's  of  more  importance.' 

'I  wish,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  setting  his  teeth  to- 
gether, and  speaking  more  like  a  savage  warrior  who 
fed  on  raw  wolf's  flesh  which  he  carved  with  his 
fingers,  than  a  peaceable  young  gentleman  who  ate 
minced  veal  with  a  knife  and  fork,  'I  wish  I  knew 
whether  any  rascal  really  has  been  tampering  with  her, 
and  attempting  to  engage  her  affections.  I  think  I 
should  assassinate  him,  Bob.' 

'I  'd  put  a  bullet  in  him,  if  I  found  him  out,'  said 
Mr.  Sawyer,  stopping  in  the  course  of  a  long  draught 
of  beer,  and  looking  malignantly  out  of  the  porter 
pot.  'If  that  didn't  do  his  business,  I  'd  extract  it 
afterwards,  and  kill  him  that  way.' 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  gazed  abstractedly  on  his 
friend  for  some  minutes  in  silence,  and  then  said— 

'You  have  never  proposed  to  her,  point-blank, 
Bob?' 

'No.  Because  I  saw  it  would  be  of  no  use,'  replied 
Mr.  Robert  Sawyer. 

'You  shall  do  it,  before  you  are  twenty-four  hours 
older,'  retorted  Ben,  with  desperate  calmness.  'She. 
shall  have  you,  or  I  '11  know  the  reason  why.  I  '11 
exert  my  authority.' 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  'we  shall  see.' 

'We  shall  see,  my  friend,'  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
fiercely.  He  paused  for  a  few  seconds,  and  added  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  349 

a  voice  broken  by  emotion,  'You  have  loved  her  from 
a  child,  my  friend.  You  loved  her  when  we  were  boys 
at  school  together,  and,  even  then,  she  was  wayward, 
and  slighted  your  young  feelings.  Do  you  recollect, 
with  all  the  eagerness  of  a  child's  love,  one  day  press- 
ing upon  her  acceptance,  two  small  caraway -seed  bis- 
cuits and  one  sweet  apple,  neatly  folded  into  a  circular 
parcel  with  the  leaf  of  a  copybook?' 

*I  do,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

'She  slighted  that,  I  think?'  said  Ben  Allen. 

'She  did,'  rejoined  Bob.  'She  said  I  had  kept  the 
parcel  so  long  in  the  pockets  of  my  corduroys,  that  the 
apple  was  unpleasantly  warm.' 

'I  remember/  said  Mr.  Allen,  gloomily.  'Upon 
which  we  ate  it  ourselves,  in  alternate  bites.' 

Bob  Sawyer  intimated  his  recollection  of  the  cir- 
cumstance last  alluded  to,  by  a  melancholy  frown ;  and 
the  two  friends  remained  for  some  time  absorbed,  each 
in  his  own  meditations. 

While  these  observations  were  being  exchanged  be- 
tween Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen; 
and  while  the  boy  in  the  grey  livery,  marvelling  at 
the  unwonted  prolongation  of  the  dinner,  cast  an  anx- 
ious look,  from  time  to  time,  towards  the  glass  door, 
distracted  by  inward  misgivings  regarding  the 
amount  of  minced  veal  which  would  be  ultimately 
reserved  for  his  individual  cravings;  there  rolled 
soberly  on  through  the  streets  of  Bristol,  a  private  fly, 
painted  of  a  sad  green  colour,  drawn  by  a  chubby  sort 
of  brown  horse,  and  driven  by  a  surly-looking  man 
with  his  legs  dressed  like  the  legs  of  a  groom,  and  his 
body  attired  in  the  coat  of  a  coachman.  Such  ap- 
pearances are  common  to  many  vehicles  belonging  to, 
and  maintained  by,  old  ladies  of  economic  habits;  and 
in  this  vehicle,  sat  an  old  lady  who  was  its  mistress 
and  proprietor. 


350  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Martin !'  said  the  old  lady,  calling  to  the  surly  man, 
out  of  the  front  window. 

'Well?'  said  the  surly  man,  touching  his  hat  to  the 
old  lady. 

'Mr.  Sawyer's,'  said  the  old  lady. 

'I  was  going  there,'  said  the  surly  man. 

The  old  lady  nodded  the  satisfaction  which  this 
proof  of  the  surly  man's  foresight  imparted  to  her 
feelings ;  and  the  surly  man  giving  a  smart  lash  to  the 
chubby  horse,  they  all  repaired  to  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's 
together. 

'Martin !'  said  the  old  lady,  when  the  fly  stopped  at 
the  door  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer  late  Nockemorf . 

'Well?'  said  Martin. 

'Ask  the  lad  to  step  out,  and  mind  the  horse.' 

'I  'm  going  to  mind  the  horse  myself,'  said  Martin, 
laying  his  whip  on  the  roof  of  the  fly. 

'I  can't  permit  it,  on  any  account,'  said  the  old  lady; 
'your  testimony  will  be  very  important,  and  I  must 
take  you  into  the  house  with  me.  You  must  not  stir 
from  my  side  during  the  whole  interview.  Do  you 
hear?' 

'I  hear/  replied  Martin. 

'Well;  what  are  you  stopping  for?' 

'Nothing,'  replied  Martin.  So  saying,  the  surly 
man  leisurely  descended  from  the  wheel,  on  which  he 
had  been  poising  himself  on  the  tops  of  the  toes  of 
his  right  foot,  and  having  summoned  the  boy  in  the 
grey  livery,  opened  the  coach-door,  flung  down  the 
steps,  and  thrusting  in  a  hand  enveloped  in  a  dark 
wash-leather  glove,  pulled  out  the  old  lady  with  as 
much  unconcern  in  his  manner  as  if  she  were  a  band- , 
box. 

'Dear  me!'  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  T  am  so  flur- 
ried, now  I  have  got  here,  Martin,  that  I  'm  all  in  a 
tremble.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  351 

Mr.  Martin  coughed  behind  the  dark  wash-leather 
glove,  but  expressed  no  sympathy;  so  the  old  lady, 
composing  herself,  trotted  up  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's 
steps,  and  Mr.  Martin  followed.  Immediately  on  the 
old  lady's  entering  the  shop,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  and 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  putting  the  spirits 
and  water  out  of  sight,  and  upsetting  nauseous  drugs 
to  take  off  the  smell  of  the  tobacco-smoke,  issued 
hastily  forth  in  a  transport  of  pleasure  and  affec- 
tion. 

'My  dear  aunt/  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  'how  kind 
of  you  to  look  in  upon  us!  Mr.  Sawyer,  aunt;  my 
friend,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  whom  I  have  spoken  to  you 
about,  regarding — you  know,  aunt/  And  here  Mr. 
Ben  Allen,  who  was  not  at  the  moment  extraordinarily 
sober,  added  the  word  'Arabella,'  in  what  was  meant 
to  be  a  whisper,  but  which  was  an  especially  audible 
and  distinct  tone  of  speech,  which  nobody  could  avoid 
hearing,  if  anybody  were  so  disposed. 

'My  dear  Benjamin,'  said  the  old  lady,  struggling 
with  a  great  shortness  of  breath,  and  trembling  from 
head  to  foot :  'don't  be  alarmed,  my  dear,  but  I  think 
I  had  better  speak  to  Mr.  Sawyer,  alone,  for  a  mo- 
ment. Only  for  one  moment.' 

'Bob,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  'will  you  take  my  aunt 
into  the  surgery?' 

'Certainly,'  responded  Bob,  in  a  most  professional 
voice.     'Step  this  way,  my  dear  ma'am.     Don't  be 
frightened,  ma'am.     We  shall  be  able  to  set  you  t 
rights  in  a  very  short  time,  I  have  no  doubt,  ma  am. 
Here,  my  dear  ma'am.    Now  then!'    With  this,  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  having  handed  the  old  lady  to  a  chair, 
shut  the  door,  drew  another  chair  close  to  her,  and 
waited  to  hear  detailed  the  symptoms  of  some  disorder 
from  which  he  saw  in  perspective  a  long  1 
profits  and  advantages. 


352  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  first  thing  the  old  lady  did,  was  to  shake  her 
head  a  great  many  times,  and  begin  to  cry. 

'Nervous,'  said  Bob  Sawyer  complacently.  'Cam- 
phor-julep and  water  three  times  a-day,  and  compos- 
ing draught  at  night.' 

'I  don't  know  how  to  begin,  Mr.  Sawyer,'  said  the 
old  lady.  'It  is  so  very  painful  and  distressing.' 

'You  need  not  begin,  ma'am,'  rejoined  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer.  'I  can  anticipate  all  you  would  say.  The 
head  is  in  fault/ 

'I  should  be  very  sorry  to  think  it  was  the  heart,' 
said  the  old  lady,  with  a  slight  groan. 

'Not  the  slightest  danger  of  that,  ma'am,'  replied 
Bob  Sawyer.  'The  stomach  is  the  primary  cause.' 

'Mr.  Sawyer!'  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  starting. 

'Not  the  least  doubt  of  it,  ma'am,'  rejoined  Bob, 
looking  wondrous  wise.  'Medicine,  in  time,  my  dear 
ma'am,  would  have  prevented  it  all.' 

'Mr.  Sawyer,'  said  the  old  lady,  more  flurried  than 
before,  'this  conduct  is  either  great  impertinence  to 
one  in  my  situation,  sir,  or  it  arises  from  your  not 
understanding  the  object  of  my  visit.  If  it  had  been 
in  the  power  of  medicine,  or  any  foresight  I  could 
have  used,  to  prevent  what  has  occurred,  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  done  so.  I  had  better  see  my  nephew  at 
once,'  said  the  old  lady,  twirling  her  reticule  indig- 
nantly and  rising  as  she  spoke. 

'Stop  a  moment,  ma'am,'  said  Bob  Sawyer;  'I'm 
afraid  I  have  not  understood  you.  What  is  the  mat- 
ter, ma'am?' 

'My  niece,  Mr.  Sawyer,'  said  the  old  lady:  *y°ur 
friend's  sister.' 

'Yes,  ma'am,'  said  Bob,  all  impatience;  for  the  old 
lady,  although  much  agitated,  spoke  with  the  most 
tantalising  deliberation,  as  old  ladies  often  do.  'Yes, 
ma'am.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  353 

'Left  my  home,  Mr.  Sawyer,  three  days  ago,  on  a 
pretended  visit  to  my  sister,  another  aunt  of  hers,  who 
keeps  the  large  boarding-school  just  beyond  the  third 
mile-stone  where  there  is  a  very  large  laburnum  tree 
and  an  oak  gate,'  said  the  old  lady,  stopping  in  this 
place  to  dry  her  eyes. 

'Oh,  devil  take  the  laburnum  tree!  ma'am,'  said  Bob, 
quite  forgetting  his  professional  dignity  in  his  anx- 
iety. 'Get  on  a  little  faster;  put  a  little  more  steam 
on,  ma'am,  pray.' 

'This  morning,'  said  the  old  lady,  slowly;  'this  morn- 
ing,  she — ' 

'She  came  back,  ma'am,  I  suppose,'  said  Bob,  with 
great  animation.  'Did  she  come  back?' 

'No,  she  did  not;  she  wrote,'  replied  the  old  lady. 

'What  did  she  say?'  inquired  Bob,  eagerly. 

'She  said,  Mr.  Sawyer,'  replied  the  old  lady — 'and 
it  is  this,  I  want  you  to  prepare  Benjamin's  mind  for, 
gently  and  by  degrees ;  she  said  that  she  was — I  have 
got  the  letter  in  my  pocket,  Mr.  Sawyer,  but  my 
glasses  are  in  the  carriage,  and  I  should  only  waste 
your  time  if  I  attempted  to  point  out  the  passage  to 
you,  without  them;  she  said,  in  short,  Mr.  Sawyer, 
that  she  was  married.' 

'What!'  said,  or  rather  shouted,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Married,'  repeated  the  old  lady. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  stopped  to  hear  no  more;  but 
darting  from  the  surgery  into  the  outer  shop,  cried  in 
a  stentorian  voice,  'Ben,  my  boy,  she  's  bolted!' 

Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  had  been  slumbering  behind 
the  counter,  with  his  head  half  a  foot  or  so  below  his 
knees,  no  sooner  heard  this  appalling  communication, 
than  he  made  a  precipitate  rush  at  Mr.  Martin,  and, 
twisting  his  hand  in  the  neckcloth  of  that  taciturn 
servitor,  expressed  an  intention  of  choking  him  where 
he  stood.  This  intention,  with  a  promptitude  often 


354  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  effect  of  desperation,  he  at  once  commenced  car- 
rying into  execution,  with  much  vigour  and  surgical 
skill. 

Mr.  Martin,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words  and  pos- 
sessed but  little  power  of  eloquence  or  persuasion,  sub- 
mitted to  this  operation  with  a  very  calm  and  agreeable 
expression  of  countenance,  for  some  seconds ;  finding, 
however,  that  it  threatened  speedily  to  lead  to  a  result 
which  would  place  it  beyond  his  power  to  claim  any 
wages,  board  or  otherwise,  in  all  time  to  come,  he 
muttered  an  inarticulate  remonstrance  and  felled  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen  to  the  ground.  As  that  gentleman 
had  his  hands  entangled  in  his  cravat,  he  had  no 
alternative  but  to  follow  him  to  the  floor.  There  they 
both  lay  struggling,  when  the  shop  door  opened,  and 
the  party  was  increased  by  the  arrival  of  two  most 
unexpected  visitors:  to  wit,  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller. 

The  impression  at  once  produced  on  Mr.  Weller's 
mind  by  what  he  saw,  was,  that  Mr.  Martin  was  hired 
by  the  establishment  of  Sawyer  late  Nockemorf,  to 
take  strong  medicine,  or  to  go  into  fits  and  be  experi- 
mentalised upon,  or  to  swallow  poison  now  and  then 
with  the  view  of  testing  the  efficacy  of  some  new  anti- 
dotes, or  to  do  something  or  other  to  promote  the  great 
science  of  medicine,  and  gratify  the  ardent  spirit 
of  inquiry  burning  in  the  bosoms  of  its  two  young 
professors.  So,  without  presuming  to  interfere,  Sam 
stood  perfectly  still,  and  looked  on,  as  if  he  were 
mightily  interested  in  the  result  of  the  then  pending 
experiment.  Not  so,  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  at  once 
threw  himself  on  the  astonished  combatants,  with  his 
accustomed  energy,  and  loudly  called  upon  the  by- 
standers to  interpose. 

This  roused  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  hith- 
erto quite  paralysed  by  the  frenzy  of  his  companion. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  355 

With  that  gentleman's  assistance,  Mr.  Pickwick  raised 
Ben  Allen  to  his  feet.  Mr.  Martin  finding  himself 
alone  on  the  floor,  got  up,  and  looked  about  him. 

'Mr.  Allen,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'what  is  the  matter, 
sir?' 

'Never  mind,  sir!'  replied  Mr.  Allen,  with  haughty 
defiance. 

'What  is  it?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  Bob 
Sawyer.  'Is  he  unwell?' 

Before  Bob  could  reply,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  seized  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  hand,  and  murmured,  in  sorrowful 
accents,  'My  sister,  my  dear  sir;  my  sister.' 

'Oh,  is  that  all!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'We  shall 
easily  arrange  that  matter,  I  hope.  Your  sister  is 
safe  and  well,  and  I  am  here,  my  dear  sir,  to — 

'Sorry  to  do  any  thin'  as  may  cause  an  interruption 
to  such  wery  pleasant  proceedin's,  as  the  king  said 
wen  he  dissolved  the  parliament/  interposed  Mr. 
Weller,  who  had  been  peeping  through  the  glass  door; 
'but  there  's  another  experiment  here,  sir.  Here 's  a 
wenerable  old  lady  a  lyin'  on  the  carpet  waitin*  for 
dissection,  or  galwinism,  or  some  other  rewivin'  and 
scientific  inwention.' 

'I  forgot,'  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  'It  is  my 
aunt.' 

'Dear  me!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Poor  lady  I 
Gently,  Sam,  gently.' 

'Strange  sitivation  for  one  o'  the  family,'  observed 
Sam  Weller,  hoisting  the  aunt  into  a  chair, 
depitty  Sawbones,  bring  out  the  wollatilly!' 

The  latter  observation  was  addressed  to  the  boy  in 
grey,  who,  having  handed  over  the  fly  to  the  care  of 
the 'street-keeper,  had  come  back  to  see  what  all  the 
noise  was  about.  Between  the  boy  in  grey,  and  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer,  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  (who  having 
frightened  his  aunt  into  a  fainting  fit,  was  affection- 


356  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ately  solicitous  for  her  recovery)  the  old  lady  was,  at 
length,  restored  to  consciousness ;  then  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
turning  with  a  puzzled  countenance  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
asked  him  what  he  was  about  to  say,  when  he  had 
been  so  alarmingly  interrupted. 

'We  are  all  friends  here,  I  presume?'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, clearing  his  voice,  and  looking  towards  the  man 
of  few  words  with  the  surly  countenance,  who  drove 
the  fly  with  the  chubby  horse. 

This  reminded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  that  the  boy  in 
grey  was  looking  on,  with  eyes  wide  open,  and  greedy 
ears.  The  incipient  chemist  having  been  lifted  up  by 
his  coat  collar,  and  dropped  outside  the  door,  Bob 
Sawyer  assured  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  might  speak 
without  reserve. 

'Your  sister,  my  dear  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turn- 
ing to  Benjamin  Allen,  'is  in  London;  well  and 
happy.' 

'Her  happiness  is  no  object  to  me,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen,  with  a  flourish  of  the  hand. 

'Her  husband  is  an  object  to  me,  sir,'  said  Bob 
Sawyer.  'He  shall  be  an  object  to  me,  sir,  at  twelve 
paces,  and  a  very  pretty  object  I  '11  make  of  him,  sir 
—a  mean-spirited  scoundrel!'  This,  as  it  stood,  was 
a  very  pretty  denunciation,  and  magnanimous  withal ; 
but  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  rather  weakened  its  effect,  by 
winding  up  with  some  general  observations  concern- 
ing the  punching  of  heads  and  knocking  out  of  eyes, 
which  were  commonplace  by  comparison. 

'Stay,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'before  you  apply 
those  epithets  to  the  gentleman  in  question,  consider, 
dispassionately,  the  extent  of  his  fault,  and  above  ail 
remember  that  he  is  a  friend  of  mine.' 

'What!'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'His  name!'  cried  Ben  Allen.     'His  name!' 

'Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  357 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  deliberately  crushed  his  spec- 
tacles beneath  the  heel  of  his  boot,  and  having  picked 
up  the  pieces,  and  put  them  into  three  separate  pock- 
ets, folded  his  arms,  bit  his  lips,  and  looked  in  a  threat- 
ening manner  at  the  bland  features  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Then  it 's  you,  is  it,  sir,  who  have  encouraged  and 
brought  about  this  match?'  inquired  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  at  length. 

'And  it 's  this  gentleman's  servant,  I  suppose,'  in- 
terrupted the  old  lady,  'who  has  been  skulking  about 
my  house,  and  endeavouring  to  entrap  my  servants  to 
conspire  against  their  mistress.  Martin!' 

'Well?'  said  the  surly  man,  coming  forward. 

'Is  that  the  young  man  you  saw  in  the  lane,  whom 
you  told  me  about,  this  morning?' 

Mr.  Martin,  who,  as  it  has  already  appeared,  was  a 
man  of  few  words,  looked  at  Sam  Weller,  nodded  his 
head,  and  growled  forth,  'That's  the  man!'  Mr. 
Weller,  who  was  never  proud,  gave  a  smile  of  friendly 
recognition  as  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  the  surly 
groom,  and  admitted,  in  courteous  terms,  that  he  had 
'knowed  him  afore.' 

'And  this  is  the  faithful  creature,'  exclaimed  Mr. 
Ben  Allen,  'whom  I  had  nearly  suffocated!  Mr. 
Pickwick,  how  dare  you  allow  your  fellow  to  be  em- 
ployed in  the  abduction  of  my  sister?  I  demand  that 
you  explain  this  matter,  sir.' 

'Explain  it,  sir!'  cried  Bob  Sawyer,  fiercely. 

'It 's  a  conspiracy,'  said  Ben  Allen. 

'A  regular  plant,'  added  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'A  disgraceful  imposition,'  observed  the  old  lady. 

'Nothing  but  a  do,'  remarked  Martin. 

Trav  hear  me/  urged  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Ber 
Allen  fell  into  a  chair  that  patients  were  bled  in,  an< 
ffave  way  to  his  pocket-handkerchief.     'I  have  ren- 
dered no  assistance  in  this  matter,  beyond  that  ot 


358  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

being  present  at  one  interview  between  the  young 
people,  which  I  could  not  prevent,  and  from  which  I 
conceive  my  presence  would  remove  any  slight  colour- 
ing of  impropriety  that  it  might  otherwise  have  had ; 
this  is  the  whole  share  I  have  taken  in  the  transaction, 
and  I  had  no  suspicion  that  an  immediate  marriage 
was  even  contemplated.  Though,  mind,'  added  Mr. 
Pickwick,  hastily  checking  himself,  'mind,  I  do  not 
say  I  should  have  prevented  it,  if  I  had  known  that  it 
was  intended.' 

'You  hear  that,  all  of  you;  you  hear  that?'  said  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen. 

'I  hope  they  do,'  mildly  observed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
looking  round,  'and,'  added  that  gentleman :  his  colour 
mounting  as  he  spoke:  'I  hope  they  hear  this,  sir, 
also.  That  from  what  has  been  stated  to  me,  sir,  I 
assert  that  you  were  by  no  means  justified  in  attempt- 
ing to  force  your  sister's  inclinations  as  you  did,  and 
that  you  should  rather  have  endeavoured  by  your 
kindness  and  forbearance  to  have  supplied  the  place 
of  other  nearer  relations  whom  she  has  never  known, 
from  a  child.  As  regards  my  young  friend,  I  must 
beg  to  add,  that  in  every  point  of  worldly  advantage, 
he  is,  at  least,  on  an  equal  footing  with  yourself,  if 
not  on  a  much  better  one,  and  that  unless  I  hear  this 
question  discussed  with  becoming  temper  and  mod- 
eration, I  decline  hearing  any  more  said  upon  the 
subject.' 

'I  wish  to  make  a  wery  few  remarks  in  addition  to 
wot  has  been  put  for'ard  by  the  honourable  gen'l'm'n 
as  has  jist  give  over,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  stepping  forth, 
'wich  is  this  here :  a  indiwidual  in  company  has  called 
me  a  feller.' 

'That  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter, 
Sam,'  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Pray  hold  your 
tongue.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  359 

'I  ain't  a  goin'  to  say  nothin'  on  that  'ere  pint,  sir,' 
replied  Sam,  'but  merely  this  here.  P'raps  that 
gen'l'm'n  may  think  as  there  wos  a  priory  'tachment ; 
but  there  worn't  nothin'  o'  the  sort,  for  the  young 
lady  said,  in  the  wery  beginnin'  o'  the  keepin'  com- 
pany, that  she  couldn't  abide  him.  Nobody 's  cut 
him  out,  and  it  'ud  ha'  been  jist  the  wery  same  for 
him  if  the  young  lady  had  never  seen  Mr.  Vinkle. 
That 's  wot  I  wished  to  say,  sir,  and  I  hope  I  Ve  now 
made  that  'ere  gen'l'm'n's  mind  easy.' 

A  short  pause  followed  these  consolatory  remarks 
of  Mr.  Weller.  Then  Mr.  Ben  Allen  rising  from  his 
chair,  protested  that  he  would  never  see  Arabella's 
face  again:  while  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  despite  Sam's 
flattering  assurance,  vowed  dreadful  vengeance  on 
the  happy  bridegroom. 

But,  just  when  matters  were  at  their  height,  and 
threatening  to  remain  so,  Mr.  Pickwick  found  a  pow- 
erful assistant  in  the  old  lady,  who,  evidently  much 
struck  by  the  mode  in  which  he  had  advocated  her 
niece's  cause,  ventured  to  approach  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  with  a  few  comforting  reflections,  of  which  the 
chief  were,  that  after  all,  perhaps,  it  was  well  it  was 
no  worse;  the  least  said  the  soonest  mended,  and  upon 
her  word  she  did  not  know  that  it  was  so  very  bad 
after  all;  what  was  over  couldn't  be  begun,  and  what 
couldn't  be  cured  must  be  endured:  with  various  other 
assurances  of  the  like  novel  and  strengthening  de- 
scription. To  all  of  these,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  re- 
plied that  he  meant  no  disrespect  to  his  aunt,  or 
anybody  there,  but  if  it  were  all  the  same  to  them,  and 
they  would  allow  him  to  have  his  own  way,  he  won  < 
rather  have  the  pleasure  of  hating  his  sister  t  11  death, 

and  after  it. 

At  length,  when  this  determination  had  been  an- 
nounced half  a  hundred  times,  the  old  lady  suddenly 


360  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

bridling  up  and  looking  very  majestic,  wished  to 
know  what  she  had  done  that  no  respect  was  to  be 
paid  to  her  years  or  station,  and  that  she  should  be 
obliged  to  beg  and  pray,  in  that  way,  of  her  own 
nephew,  whom  she  remembered  about  five-and-twenty 
years  before  he  was  born,  and  whom  she  had  known, 
personally,  when  he  hadn't  a  tooth  in  his  head?  To 
say  nothing  of  her  presence  on  the  first  occasion  of 
his  having  his  hair  cut,  and  assistance  at  numerous 
other  times  and  ceremonies  during  his  babyhood,  of 
sufficient  importance  to  found  a  claim  upon  his  affec- 
tion, obedience,  and  sympathies,  for  ever. 

While  the  good  lady  was  bestowing  this  objurga- 
tion on  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  retired  in  close  conversation  to  the  inner 
room,  where  Mr.  Sawyer  was  observed  to  apply  him- 
self several  times  to  the  mouth  of  a  black  bottle,  un- 
der the  influence  of  which,  his  features  gradually 
assumed  a  cheerful  and  even  jovial  expression.  And 
at  last  he  emerged  from  the  room,  bottle  in  hand, 
and,  remarking  that  he  was  very  sorry  to  say  he  had 
been  making  a  fool  of  himself,  begged  to  propose  the 
health  and  happiness  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Winkle,  whose 
felicity,  so  far  from  envying,  he  would  be  the  first 
to  congratulate  them  upon.  Hearing  this,  Mr.  Ben 
Allen  suddenly  rose  from  his  chair,  and,  seizing  the 
black  bottle,  drank  the  toast  so  heartily,  that,  the 
liquor  being  strong,  he  became  nearly  as  black  in  the 
face  as  the  bottle.  Finally,  the  black  bottle  went 
round  till  it  was  empty,  and  there  was  so  much  shak- 
ing of  hands  and  interchanging  of  compliments,  that 
even  the  metal-visaged  Mr.  Martin  condescended  to* 
smile. 

'And  now/  said  Bob  Sawyer,  rubbing  his  hands, 
'we  '11  have  a  jolly  night.' 

'I  am  sorry/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  I  must  return 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  361 

to  my  inn.  I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  fatigue 
lately,  and  my  journey  has  tired  me  exceedingly.' 

'You  '11  take  some  tea,  Mr.  Pickwick?'  said  the  old 
lady,  with  irresistible  sweetness. 

'Thank  you,  I  would  rather  not,'  replied  that  gen- 
tleman. The  truth  is,  that  the  old  lady's  evidently 
increasing  admiration,  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  principal 
inducement  for  going  away.  He  thought  of  Mrs. 
Bardell ;  and  every  glance  of  the  old  lady's  eyes  threw 
him  into  a  cold  perspiration. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  could  by  no  means  be  prevailed 
upon  to  stay,  it  was  arranged  at  once,  on  his  own 
proposition,  that  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  should  accom- 
pany him  on  his  journey  to  the  elder  Mr.  Winkle's, 
and  that  the  coach  should  be  at  the  door,  at  nine 
o'clock  next  morning.  He  then  took  his  leave,  and, 
followed  by  Samuel  Weller,  repaired  to  the  Bush. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  Mr.  Martin's  face  was 
horribly  convulsed  as  he  shook  hands  with  Sam  at 
parting,  and  that  he  gave  vent  to  a  smile  and  an  oath 
simultaneously:  from  which  tokens  it  has  been  in- 
ferred by  those  who  wrere  best  acquainted  with  that 
gentleman's  peculiarities,  that  he  expressed  himself 
much  pleased  with  Mr.  Weller's  society,  and  requested 
the  honour  of  his  further  acquaintance. 

'Shall  I  order  a  private  room,  sir?'  inquired  Sam, 
when  they  reached  the  Bush. 

'Why,  no,  Sam,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  'as  I  dined 
in  the  coffee-room,  and  shall  go  to  bed  soon,  it  is 
hardly  worth  while.  See  who  is  in  the  travellers' 
room,  Sam.' 

Mr.  Weller  departed  on  his  errand,  and  presently 
returned  to  say,  that  there  was  only  a  gentleman  with 
one  eye :  and  that  he  and  the  landlord  were  drinking 
a  bowl  of  bishop  together. 

'I  will  join  them,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


362 

'He  's  a  queer  customer,  the  vun-eyed  vun,  sir,'  ob- 
served Mr.  Weller,  as  he  led  the  way.  'He  's  a  gam- 
monin'  that  'ere  landlord,  he  is,  sir,  till  he  don't  rightly 
know  wether  he  's  standing  on  the  soles  of  his  boots 
or  the  crown  of  his  hat.' 

The  individual  to  whom  this  observation  referred, 
was  sitting  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room  when  Mr. 
Pickwick  entered,  and  was  smoking  a  large  Dutch 
pipe,  with  his  eye  intently  fixed  on  the  round  face  of 
the  landlord:  a  jolly-looking  old  personage,  to  whom 
he  had  recently  been  relating  some  tale  of  wonder,  as 
was  testified  by  sundry  disjointed  exclamations  of, 
'Well,  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it!  The  strangest 
thing  I  ever  heard!  Couldn't  have  supposed  it  possi- 
ble!' and  other  expressions  of  astonishment  which 
burst  spontaneously  from  his  lips,  as  he  returned  the 
fixed  gaze  of  the  one-eyed  man. 

'Servant,  sir,'  said  the  one-eyed  man  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'Fine  night,  sir.' 

'Very  much  so  indeed,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the 
waiter  placed  a  small  decanter  of  brandy,  and  some 
hot  water  before  him. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  mixing  his  brandy-and- 
water,  the  one-eyed  man  looked  round  at  him  ear- 
nestly, from  time  to  time,  and  at  length  said — 

'I  think  I  Ve  seen  you  before.' 

'I  don't  recollect  you,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  dare  say  not,'  said  the  one-eyed  man.  'You 
didn't  know  me,  but  I  knew  two  friends  of  yours 
that  were  stopping  at  the  Peacock  at  Eatanswill,  at 
the  time  of  the  election/ 

'Oh,  indeed!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes,'  rejoined  the  one-eyed  man.  'I  mentioned  a 
little  circumstance  to  them  about  a  friend  of  mine  of 
the  name  of  Tom  Smart.  Perhaps  you  Ve  heard 
them  speak  of  it.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  363 

'Often  '  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling.  'He  was 
your  uncle,  I  think?' 

'No,  no;  only  a  friend  of  my  uncle's/  replied  the 
one-eyed  man. 

'He  was  a  wonderful  man,  that  uncle  of  yours, 
though,'  remarked  the  landlord,  shaking  his  head. 

'Well,  I  think  he  was,  I  think  I  may  say  he  was,' 
answered  the  one-eyed  man.  'I  could  tell  you  a  story 
about  that  same  uncle,  gentlemen,  that  would  rather 
surprise  you.' 

'Could  you?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Let  us  hear  it, 
by  all  means.' 

The  one-eyed  Bagman  ladled  out  a  glass  of  negus 
from  the  bowl,  and  drank  it  ;  smoked  a  long  whiff  out 
of  the  Dutch  pipe;  and  then,  calling  to  Sam  Weller 
who  was  lingering  near  the  door,  that  he  needn't  go 
away  unless  he  wanted  to,  because  the  story  was  no 
secret,  fixed  his  eye  upon  the  landlord's,  and  pro- 
ceeded, in  the  words  of  the  next  chapter. 

CHAPTER  XLIX 

CONTAINING    THE    STORY    OF    THE    BAGMAN'S    UNCLE 


uncle,  gentlemen,'  said  the  bagman,  'was  one  of 
the  merriest,  pleasantest,  cleverest  fellows  that  ever 
lived.  I  wish  you  had  known  him,  gentlemen.  On 
second  thoughts,  gentlemen,  I  don't  wish  you  had 
known  him,  for,  if  you  had,  you  would  have  been  all, 
by  this  time,,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  if  not 
dead,  at  all  events  so  near  it,  as  to  have  taken  to  stop- 
ping at  home  and  giving  up  company:  which  would* 
have  deprived  me  of  the  inestimable  pleasure  of  ad- 
dressing you  at  this  moment.  Gentlemen,  I  wish 
your  fathers  and  mothers  had  known  my  uncle. 


364  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

They  would  have  been  amazingly  fond  of  him,  espe- 
cially your  respectable  mothers;  I  know  they  would. 
If  any  two  of  his  numerous  virtues  predominated 
over  the  many  that  adorned  his  character,  I  should  say 
they  were  his  mixed  punch  and  his  after-supper  song. 
Excuse  my  dwelling  on  these  melancholy  recollections 
of  departed  worth ;  you  won't  see  a  man  like  my  uncle 
every  day  in  the  week. 

'I  have  always  considered  it  a  great  point  in  my 
uncle's  character,  gentlemen,  that  he  was  the  intimate 
friend  and  companion  of  Tom  Smart,  of  the  great 
house  of  Bilson  and  Slum,  Cateaton  Street,  City. 
My  uncle  collected  for  Tiggin  and  Welps,  but  for  a 
long  time  he  went  pretty  near  the  same  journey  as 
Tom;  and  the  very  first  night  they  met,  my  uncle 
took  a  fancy  for  Tom,  and  Tom  took  a  fancy  for  my 
uncle.  They  made  a  bet  of  a  new  hat  before  they 
had  known  each  other  half  an  hour,  who  should  brew 
the  best  quart  of  punch  and  drink  it  the  quickest. 
My  uncle  was  judged  to  have  won  the  making,  but 
Tom  Smart  beat  him  in  the  drinking  by  about  half 
a  salt-spoonful.  They  took  another  quart  a-piece  to 
drink  each  other's  health  in,  and  were  staunch  friends 
ever  afterwards.  There  's  a  destiny  in  these  things, 
gentlemen;  we  can't  help  it. 

'In  personal  appearance,  my  uncle  was  a  trifle 
shorter  than  the  middle  size ;  he  was  a  thought  stouter 
too,  than  the  ordinary  run  of  people,  and  perhaps  his 
face  might  be  a  shade  redder.  He  had  the  j  oiliest 
face  you  ever  saw,  gentlemen :  something  like  Punch, 
with  a  handsomer  nose  and  chin ;  his  eyes  were  always 
twinkling  and  sparkling  with  good  humour;  and  a* 
smile — not  one  of  your  unmeaning  wooden  grins,  but 
a  real,  merry,  hearty,  good-tempered  smile — was  per- 
petually on  his  countenance.  He  was  pitched  out  of 
his  gig  once,  and  knocked,  head  first,  against  a  mile- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  365 

stone.  There  he  lay,  stunned,  and  so  cut  about  the 
face  with  some  gravel  which  had  been  heaped  up 
alongside  it,  that,  to  use  my  uncle's  own  strong  ex- 
pression, if  his  mother  could  have  revisited  the  earth, 
she  wouldn't  have  known  him.  Indeed,  when  I  come 
to  think  of  the  matter,  gentlemen,  I  feel  pretty  sure 
she  wouldn't,  for  she  died  when  my  uncle  was  two 
years  and  seven  months  old,  and  I  think  it 's  very 
likely  that,  even  without  the  gravel,  his  top-boots 
would  have  puzzled  the  good  lady  not  a  little :  to  say 
nothing  of  his  jolly  red  face.  However,  there  he  lay, 
and  I  have  heard  my  uncle  say,  many  a  time,  that 
the  man  said  who  picked  him  up  that  he  was  smiling 
as  merrily  as  if  he  had  tumbled  out  for  a  treat,  and 
that  after  they  had  bled  him,  the  first  faint  glim- 
merings of  returning  animation,  were,  his  jumping 
up  in  bed,  bursting  out  into  a  loud  laugh,  kissing  the 
young  woman  who  held  the  basin,  and  demanding  a 
mutton  chop  and  a  pickled  walnut.  He  was  very 
fond  of  pickled  walnuts,  gentlemen.  He  said  he 
always  found  that,  taken  without  vinegar,  they  rel- 
ished the  beer. 

'My  uncle's  great  journey  was  in  the  fall  of  the 
leaf,  at  which  time  he  collected  debts,  and  took  orders, 
in  the  north:  going  from  London  to  Edinburgh, 
from  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow,  from  Glasgow  back  to 
Edinburgh,  and  thence  to  London  by  the  smack. 
You  are  to  understand  that  his  second  visit  to  Edin- 
burgh was  for  his  own  pleasure.  He  used  to  go  back 
for  a  week,  just  to  look  up  his  old  friends;  and  what 
with  breakfasting  with  this  one,  lunching  with  that, 
dining  with  a  third,  and  supping  with  another,  a 
pretty  tight  week  he  used  to  make  of  it.  I  don't 
know  whether  any  of  you,  gentlemen,  ever  partook 
of  a  real  substantial  hospitable  Scotch  breakfast,  and 
then  went  out  to  a  slight  lunch  of  a  bushel  of  oysters, 


366  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

a  dozen  or  so  of  bottled  ale,  and  a  noggin  or  two  of 
whiskey  to  close  up  with.  If  you  ever  did,  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  requires  a  pretty  strong  head  to 
go  out  to  dinner  and  supper  afterwards. 

'But,  bless  your  hearts  and  eye-brows,  all  this  sort 
of  thing  was  nothing  to  my  uncle!  He  was  so  well 
seasoned,  that  it  was  mere  child's  play.  I  have  heard 
him  say  that  he  could  see  the  Dundee  people  out,  any 
day,  and  walk  home  afterwards  without  staggering; 
and  yet  the  Dundee  people  have  as  strong  heads  and 
as  strong  punch,  gentlemen,  as  you  are  likely  to  meet 
with,  between  the  poles.  I  have  heard  of  a  Glasgow 
man  and  a  Dundee  man  drinking  against  each  other 
for  fifteen  hours  at  a  sitting.  They  were  both  suf- 
focated, as  nearly  as  could  be  ascertained,  at  the  same 
moment,  but  with  this  trifling  exception,  gentlemen, 
they  were  not  a  bit  the  worse  for  it. 

'One  night,  within  four-and-twenty  hours  of  the 
time  when  he  had  settled  to  take  shipping  for  London, 
my  uncle  supped  at  the  house  of  a  very  old  friend  of 
his,  a  Baillie  Mac  something  and  four  syllables  after 
it,  who  lived  in  the  old  town  of  Edinburgh.  There 
were  the  baillie's  wife,  and  the  baillie's  three  daugh- 
ters, and  the  baillie's  grown-up  son,  and  three  or  four 
stout,  bushy  eyebrowed,  canny  old  Scotch  fellows,  that 
the  baillie  had  got  together  to  do  honour  to  my  uncle, 
and  help  to  make  merry.  It  was  a  glorious  supper. 
There  were  kippered  salmon,  and  Finnan  haddocks, 
and  a  lamb's  head,  and  a  haggis — a  celebrated  Scotch 
dish,  gentlemen,  which  my  uncle  used  to  say  always 
looked  to  him,  when  it  came  to  table,  very  much  like 
a  cupid's  stomach — and  a  great  many  other  things 
besides,  that  I  forget  the  names  of,  but  very  good 
things  notwithstanding.  The  lassies  were  pretty  and 
agreeable;  the  baillie's  wife  was  one  of  the  best  crea- 
tures that  ever  lived ;  and  my  uncle  wras  in  thoroughly 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

good  cue.     The  consequence  of  which  was,  that  the 
young  ladies  tittered  and  giggled,  and  the  old  lady 
laughed  out  loud,  and  the  baillie  and  the  other  old 
fellows  roared  till  they  were  red  in  the  face,  the  whole 
mortal  time.     I  don't  quite  recollect  how  many  tum- 
blers of  whiskey  toddy  each  man  drank  after  supper; 
but  this  I  know,  that  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, the  baillie's  grown-up  son  became  insensible  while 
attempting  the  first  verse  of  "Willie  brewed  a  peck 
o'  maut" ;  and  he  having  been,  for  half  an  hour  before, 
the  only  other  man  visible  above  the  mahogany,  it  oc- 
curred to  my  uncle  that  it  was  almost  time  to  think 
about  going :  especially  as  drinking  had  set  in  at  seven 
o'clock,  in  order  that  he  might  get  home  at  a  decent 
hour.     But,  thinking  it  might  not  be  quite  polite  to 
go  just  then,  my  uncle  voted  himself  into  the  chair, 
mixed  another  glass,  rose  to  propose  his  own  health, 
addressed    himself    in    a    neat    and    complimentary 
speech,  and  drank  the  toast  with  great  enthusiasm. 
Still  nobody  woke;  so  my  uncle  took  a  little  drop 
more— neat  this  time,  to  prevent  the  toddy  from  dis- 
agreeing with  him— and,  laying  violent  hands  on  his 
hat,  sallied  forth  into  the  street. 

'It  was  a  wild  gusty  night  when  my  uncle  closed 
the  baillie's  door,  and  settling  his  hat  firmly  on 
head,  to  prevent  the  wind  from  taking  it,  thrust  n: 
hands  into  his  pockets,  and  looking  upward,  i 
short  survey  of  the  state  of  the  weather.     The  clou* 
were  drifting  over  the  moon  at  their  giddiest  speed 
at  one  time  wholly  obscuring  her:  at  another  suff. 
ins;  her  to  burst  forth  in  full  splendour  and  shed  her 
_.  ®  11   .1        i  • j . ^<-wi •< -n /-i .  ar»r»r»    nnvincr  o\  er 


everything  in  darkness. 


evervtmnff  m  u»ui.iicoa.       .•.»-*-«•.".,•» 

™  under  addressing  himself  to  the  weather,  as  ,:   he 

felt  himself  personally  offended.     "Th,s  is  not  at  all 


368  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  kind  of  thing  for  my  voyage.  It  will  not  do,  at 
any  price,"  said  my  uncle  very  impressively.  Hav- 
ing repeated  this,  several  times,  he  recovered  his  bal- 
ance with  some  difficulty — for  he  was  rather  giddy 
with  looking  up  into  the  sky  so  long — and  walked 
merrily  on. 

'The  baillie's  house  was  in  the  Canongate,  and  my 
uncle  was  going  to  the  other  end  of  Leith  Walk, 
rather  better  than  a  mile's  journey.  On  either  side 
of  him,  there  shot  up  against  the  dark  sky,  tall  gaunt 
straggling  houses,  with  time-stained  fronts,  and  win- 
dows that  seemed  to  have  shared  the  lot  of  eyes  in 
mortals,  and  to  have  grown  dim  and  sunken  with  age. 
Six,  seven,  eight  stories  high,  were  the  houses;  story 
piled  above  story,  as  children  build  with  cards — throw- 
ing their  dark  shadows  over  the  roughly  paved  road, 
and  making  the  dark  night  darker.  A  few  oil  lamps 
were  scattered  at  long  distances,  but  they  only  served 
to  mark  the  dirty  entrance  to  some  narrow  close,  or 
to  show  where  a  common  stair  communicated,  by 
steep  and  intricate  windings,  with  the  various  flats 
above.  Glancing  at  all  these  things  with  the  air  of 
a  man  who  had  seen  them  too  often  before,  to  think 
them  worthy  of  much  notice  now,  my  uncle  walked 
up  the  middle  of  the  street,  with  a  thumb  in  each 
waistcoat  pocket,  indulging  from  time  to  time  in 
various  snatches  of  song,  chaunted  forth  with  such 
good  will  and  spirit,  that  the  quiet  honest  folk  started 
from  their  first  sleep  and  lay  trembling  in  bed  till 
the  sound  died  away  in  the  distance;  when,  satisfying 
themselves  that  it  was  only  some  drunken  ne'er-do- 
weel  finding  his  way  home,  they  covered  themselves- 
up  warm  and  fell  asleep  again. 

'I  am  particular  in  describing  how  my  uncle  walked 
up  the  middle  of  the  street,  with  his  thumbs  in  his 
waistcoat  pockets,  gentlemen,  because,  as  he  often 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  369 

used  to  say  (and  with  great  reason  too)  there  is  noth- 
ing at  all  extraordinary  in  this  story,  unless  you  dis- 
tinctly understand  at  the  beginning  that  he  was  not  by 
any  means  of  a  marvellous  or  romantic  turn. 

'Gentlemen,  my  uncle  walked  on  with  his  thumbs  in 
his  waistcoat  pockets,  taking  the  middle  of  the  street 
to  himself,  and  singing,  now  a  verse  of  a  love  song, 
and  then  a  verse  of  a  drinking  one,  and  when  he  was 
tired  of  both,  whistling  melodiously,  until  he  reached 
the  North  Bridge,  which,  at  this  point,  connects  the 
old  and  new  towns  of  Edinburgh.  Here  he  stopped 
for  a  minute,  to  look  at  the  strange  irregular  clusters 
of  lights  piled  one  above  the  other,  and  twinkling  afar 
oif  so  high,  that  they  looked  like  stars,  gleaming  from 
the  castle  walls  on  the  one  side  and  the  Calton  Hill 
on  the  other,  as  if  they  illuminated  veritable  castles 
in  the  air;  while  the  old  picturesque  town  slept  heav- 
ily on,  in  gloom  and  darkness  below:  its  palace  and 
chapel  of  Holyrood,  guarded  day  and  night,  as  a 
friend  of  my  uncle's  used  to  say,  by  old  Arthur's  Seat, 
towering,  surly  and  dark,  like  some  gruff  genius,  over 
the  ancient  city  he  has  watched  so  long.  I  say,  gen- 
tkmen,  my  uncle  stopped  here,  for  a  minute,  to  look 
about  him;  and  then,  paying  a  compliment  to  the 
weather  which  had  a  little  cleared  up,  though  the  moon 
was  sinking,  walked  on  again,  as  royally  as  before; 
keeping  the  middle  of  the  road  with  great  dignity,  and 
looking  as  if  he  would  very  much  like  to  meet  with 
somebody  who  would  dispute  possession  of  it  with  him. 
There  was  nobody  at  all  disposed  to  contest  the  point, 
as  it  happened;  and  so,  on  he  went,  with  his  thumbs  in 
his  waistcoat  pockets,  like  a  lamb. 

'When  my  uncle  reached  the  end  of  Leith  Walk, 
he  had  to  cross  a  pretty  large  piece  of  waste  ground 
which  separated  him  from  a  short  street  which  he  had 
to  turn  down,  to  go  direct  to  his  lodging.  Now,  in 


370  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

this  piece  of  waste  ground,  there  was,  at  that  time,  an 
enclosure  belonging  to  some  wheelwright  who  con- 
tracted with  the  Postoffice  for  the  purchase  of  old 
wrorn-out  mail  coaches;  and  my  uncle  being  very 
fond  of  coaches,  old,  young,  or  middle-aged,  all  at 
once  took  it  into  his  head  to  step  out  of  his  road  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  peep  between  the  palings  at 
these  mails — about  a  dozen  of  which,  he  remembered 
to  have  seen,  crowded  together  in  a  very  forlorn  and 
dismantled  state,  inside.  My  uncle  was  a  very  enthu- 
siastic, emphatic  sort  of  person,  gentlemen ;  so,  finding 
that  he  could  not  obtain  a  good  peep  between  the 
palings,  he  got  over  them,  and  sitting  himself  quietly 
down  on  an  old  axletree,  began  to  contemplate  the 
mail  coaches  with  a  deal  of  gravity. 

'There  might  be  a  dozen  of  them,  or  there  might  be 
more — my  uncle  was  never  quite  certain  on  this  point, 
and  being  a  man  of  very  scrupulous  veracity  about 
numbers,  didn't  like  to  say — but  there  they  stood,  all 
huddled  together  in  the  most  desolate  condition  imag- 
inable. The  doors  had  been  torn  from  their  hinges 
and  removed ;  the  linings  had  been  stripped  off :  only  a 
shred  hanging  here  and  there  by  a  rusty  nail;  the 
lamps  were  gone,  the  poles  had  long  since  vanished, 
the  ironwork  was  rusty,  the  paint  was  worn  away ;  the 
wind  whistled  through  the  chinks  in  the  bare  wood- 
work; and  the  rain,  which  had  collected  on  the  roofs, 
fell,  drop  by  drop,  into  the  insides  with  a  hollow  and 
melancholy  sound.  They  were  the  decaying  skeletons 
of  departed  mails,  and  in  that  lonely  place,  at  that 
time  of  night,  they  looked  chill  and  dismal. 

*My  uncle  rested  his  head  upon  his  hands,  and- 
thought  of  the  busy  bustling  people  who  had  rattled 
about,  years  before,  in  the  old  coaches,  and  were  now 
silent  and  changed;  he  thought  of  the  numbers  of 
people  to  whom  one  of  those  crazy  mouldering  vehicles 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  371 

had  borne,  night  after  night,  for  many  years,  and 
through  all  weathers,  the  anxiously  expected  intelli- 
gence, the  eagerly  looked-for  remittance,  the  promised 
assurance  of  health  and  safety,  the  sudden  announce- 
ment of  sickness  and  death.  The  merchant,  the  lover, 
the  wife,  the  widow,  the  mother,  the  schoolboy,  the 
very  child  who  tottered  to  the  door  at  the  postman's 
knock — how  had  they  all  looked  forward  to  the  arrival 
of  the  old  coach.  And  where  were  they  all  now ! 

'Gentlemen,  my  uncle  used  to  say  that  he  thought 
all  this  at  the  time,  but  I  rather  suspect  he  learnt  it 
out  of  some  book  afterwards,  for  he  distinctly  stated 
that  he  fell  into  a  kind  of  doze,  as  he  sat  on  the  old 
axletree  looking  at  the  decayed  mail  coaches,  and  that 
he  was  suddenly  awakened  by  some  deep  church-bell 
striking  two.  Now,  my  uncle  was  never  a  fast 
thinker,  and  if  he  had  thought  all  these  things,  I  am 
quite  certain  it  would  have  taken  him  till  full  half- 
past  two  o'clock,  at  the  very  least.  I  am,  therefore, 
decidedly  of  opinion,  gentlemen,  that  my  uncle  fell 
into  the  kind  of  doze,  without  having  thought  about 
anything  at  all. 

'Be  this,  as  it  may,  a  church  bell  struck  two.  My 
uncle  woke,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  jumped  up  in  aston- 
ishment. 

'In  one  instant  after  the  clock  struck  two,  the  whole 
of  this  deserted  and  quiet  spot  had  become  a  scene  of 
most   extraordinary  life  and  animation.     The  mail 
coach-doors  were  on  their  hinges,  the  lining  was  re- 
placed, the  ironwork  was  as  good  as  new,  the  paint  was 
restored,  the  lamps  were  alight,  cushions  and  gre 
coats  were  on  every  coach-box,  porters  were  thrust 
parcels  into  every  boot,  guards  were  stowing  away  lei 
ter-bags,  hostlers  were  dashing  pails  of  water  against 
the  renovated  wheels;  numbers  of  men  were  rushing 
about,  fixing  poles  into  every  coach;  passengers  ar- 


372  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

rived,  portmanteaus  were  handed  up,  horses  were  put 
to;  in  short,  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  every  mail 
there,  was  to  be  off  directly.  Gentlemen,  my  uncle 
opened  his  eyes  so  wide  at  all  this,  that,  to  the  very  last 
moment  of  his  life,  he  used  to  wonder  how  it  fell  out 
that  he  had  ever  been  able  to  shut  'em  again. 

"Now  then!"  said  a  voice,  as  my  uncle  felt  a  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  "You  're  booked  for  one  inside. 
You  'd  better  get  in." 

"  /  booked !"  said  my  uncle,  turning  round. 

'  "Yes,  certainly." 

'My  uncle,  gentlemen,  could  say  nothing :  he  was  so 
very  much  astonished.  The  queerest  thing  of  all, 
was,  that  although  there  was  such  a  crowd  of  persons, 
and  although  fresh  faces  were  pouring  in,  every 
moment,  there  was  no  telling  where  they  came  from. 
They  seemed  to  start  up,  in  some  strange  manner, 
from  the  ground,  or  the  air,  and  disappear  in  the  same 
way.  When  a  porter  had  put  his  luggage  in  the 
coach,  and  received  his  fare,  he  turned  round  and  was 
gone ;  and  before  my  uncle  had  well  begun  to  wonder 
what  had  become  of  him,  half  a  dozen  fresh  ones 
started  up,  and  staggered  along  under  the  weight  of 
parcels  which  seemed  big  enough  to  crush  them.  The 
passengers  were  all  dressed  so  oddly  too!  Large, 
broad-skirted  laced  coats  with  great  cuffs  and  no 
collars;  and  wigs,  gentlemen, — great  formal  wigs 
with  a  tie  behind.  My  uncle  could  make  nothing 
of  it. 

"Now,  are  you  going  to  get  in?"  said  the  person 
who  had  addressed  my  uncle  before.  He  was  dressed 
as  a  mail  guard,  with  a  wig  on  his  head  and  most  • 
enormous  cuffs  to  his  coat,  and  had  a  lantern  in  one 
hand,  and  a  huge  blunderbuss  in  the  other  which  he 
was  going  to  stow  away  in  his  little  arm-chest.  "Are 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  373 

you  going  to  get  in,  Jack  Martin?"  said  the  guard, 
holding  the  lantern  to  my  uncle's  face. 

"Hallo!"  said  my  uncle,  falling  back  a  step  or 
twp;<    "That's  familiar!" 

'It 's  so  on  the  way-bill,"  replied  the  guard. 
'Isn't  there  a  'Mister'  before  it?"  said  my  uncle. 
For  he  felt,  gentlemen,  that  for  a  guard  he  didn't 
know,  to  call  him  Jack  Martin,  was  a  liberty  which  the 
Post-office  wouldn't  have  sanctioned  if  they  had 
known  it. 

"No,  there  is  not,"  rejoined  the  guard  coolly. 

"Is  the  fare  paid?"  inquired  my  uncle. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  rejoined  the  guard. 
'  "It  is,  is  it?"  said  my  uncle.     "Then  here  goes! 
Which  coach?" 

"This,"  said  the  guard,  pointing  to  an  old-fash- 
ioned Edinburgh  and  London  Mail,  which  had  the 
steps  down,  and  the  door  open.  "Stop!  Here  are 
the  other  passengers.  Let  them  get  in  first." 

'As  the  guard  spoke,  there  all  at  once  appeared, 
right  in  front  of  my  uncle,  a  young  gentleman  in  a 
powdered  wig,  and  a  sky-blue  coat  trimmed  with  sil- 
ver, made  very  full  and  broad  in  the  skirts,  which  were 
lined  with  buckram.  Tiggin  and  Welps  were  in  the 
printed  calico  and  waistcoat  piece  line,  gentlemen,  so 
my  uncle  knew  all  the  materials  at  once.  He  wore 
knee  breeches,  and  a  kind  of  leggings  rolled  up  over 
his  silk  stockings,  and  shoes  with  buckles;  he  had 
ruffles  at  his  wrists,  a  three-cornered  hat  on  his  head, 
and  a  long  taper  sword  by  his  side.  The  flaps  of  his 
waistcoat  came  half-way  down  his  thighs,  and  the  ends 
of  his  cravat  reached  to  his  waist.  He  stalked 
gravely  to  the  coach-door,  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  held 
it  above  his  head  at  arm's  length:  cocking  his  little 
finger  in  the  air  at  the  same  time,  as  some  affected 


374  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

people  do,  when  they  take  a  cup  of  tea.  Then  he  drew 
his  feet  together,  and  made  a  low  grave  bow,  and  then 
put  out  his"  left  hand.  My  uncle  was  just  going 
to  step  forward,  and  shake  it  heartily,  when  he  per- 
ceived that  these  attentions  were  directed,  not  towards 
him,  but  to  a  young  lady  who  just  then  appeared  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps,  attired  in  an  old-fashioned  green 
velvet  dress  with  a  long  waist  and  stomacher.  She 
had  no  bonnet  on  her  head,  gentlemen,  which  was 
muffled  in  a  black  silk  hood,  but  she  looked  round  for 
an  instant  as  she  prepared  to  get  into  the  coach,  and 
such  a  beautiful  face  as  she  disclosed,  my  uncle  had 
never  seen — not  even  in  a  picture.  She  got  into  the 
coach,  holding  up  her  dress  with  one  hand ;  and,  as  my 
uncle  always  said  with  a  round  oath,  when  he  told  the 
story,  he  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible  that  legs 
and  feet  could  have  been  brought  to  such  a  state  of 
perfection  unless  he  had  seen  them  with  his  own  eyes. 
'But,  in  this  one  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  face,  my 
uncle  saw  that  the  young  lady  cast  an  imploring  look 
upon  him,  and  that  she  appeared  terrified  and  dis- 
tressed. He  noticed,  too,  that  the  young  fellow  in  the 
powdered  wig,  notwithstanding  his  show  of  gallantry, 
which  was  all  very  fine  and  grand,  clasped  her  tight  by 
the  wrist  when  she  got  in,  and  followed  himself  imme- 
diately afterwards.  An  uncommonly  ill-looking,  fel- 
low, in  a  close  brown  wig  and  a  plum-coloured  suit, 
wearing  a  very  large  sword,  and  boots  up  to  his  hips, 
belonged  to  the  party;  and  when  he  sat  himself  down 
next  to  the  young  lady,  who  shrunk  into  a  corner  at 
his  approach,  my  uncle  was  confirmed  in  his  original 
impression  that  something  dark  and  mysterious  was 
going  forward,  or,  as  he  always  said  himself,  that, 
"there  was  a  screw  loose  somewhere."  It 's  quite  sur- 
prising how  quickly  he  made  up  his  mind  to  help  the 
lady  at  any  peril,  if  she  needed  help. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  .375 

"Death  and  lightning!"  exclaimed  the  young  gen- 
tleman, laying  his  hand  upon  his  sword  as  my  uncle 
entered  the  coach. 

"Blood  and  thunder!"  roared  the  other  gentleman. 
With  this,  he  whipped  his  sword  out,  and  made  a 
lunge  at  my  uncle  without  further  ceremony.  My 
uncle  had  no  weapon  about  him,  but  with  great  dex- 
terity he  snatched  the  ill-looking  gentleman's  three- 
cornered  hat  from  his  head,  and,  receiving  the  point  of 
his  sword  right  through  the  crown,  squeezed  the  sides 
together,  and  held  it  tight. 

"Pink  him  behind!"  cried  the  ill-looking  gentleman 
to  his  companion,  as  he  struggled  to  regain  his  sword. 

'  "He  had  better  not,"  cried  my  uncle,  displaying 
the  heel  of  one  of  his  shoes,  in  a  threatening  manner. 
"I  '11  kick  his  brains  out,  if  he  has  any,  or  fracture  his 
skull  if  he  hasn't."  Exerting  all  his  strength,  at  this 
moment,  my  uncle  wrenched  the  ill-looking  man's 
swrord  from  his  grasp,  and  flung  it  clean  out  of  the 
coach-window:  upon  which  the  younger  gentleman 
vociferated  "Death  and  lightning!"  again,  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  in  a  very  fierce 
manner,  but  didn't  draw  it.  Perhaps,  gentlemen,  as 
my  uncle  used  to  say  with  a  smile,  perhaps  he  was 
afraid  of  alarming  the  lady. 

'  "Now,  gentlemen,"  said  my  uncle,  taking  his  seat 
deliberately,  "I  don't  want  to  have  any  death,  with  or 
without  lightning,  in  a  lady's  presence,  and  we  have 
had  quite  blood  and  thundering  enough  for  one  jour- 
ney;  so,  if  you  please,  we  '11  sit  in  our  places  like  quiet 
insides.  Here,  guard,  pick  up  that  gentleman's  carv- 
ing-knife." 

'As  quickly  as  my  uncle  said  the  words,  the  guard 
appeared  at  the  coach-window,  with  the  gentleman  s 
sword  in  his  hand.  He  held  up  his  lantern,  and 
looked  earnestly  in  my  uncle's  face,  as  he  handed  it  in: 


376  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

when,  by  its  light,  my  uncle  saw,  to  his  great  surprise, 
that  an  immense  crowd  of  mail-coach  guards  swarmed 
round  the  window,  every  one  of  whom  had  his  eyes 
earnestly  fixed  upon  him  too.  He  had  never  seen 
such  a  sea  of  white  faces,  red  bodies,  and  earnest  eyes, 
in  all  his  born  days. 

'  "This  is  the  strangest  sort  of  thing  I  ever  had  any- 
thing to  do  with,"  thought  my  uncle;  "allow  me  to 
return  you  your  hat,  sir." 

'The  ill-looking  gentleman  received  his  three-cor- 
nered hat  in  silence,  looked  at  the  hole  in  the  middle 
with  an  inquiring  air,  and  finally  stuck  it  on  the  top 
of  his  wig  with  a  solemnity  the  effect  of  which  was  a 
trifle  impaired  by  his  sneezing  violently  at  the  moment, 
and  jerking  it  off  again. 

'"All  right!"  cried  the  guard  with  the  lantern, 
mounting  into  his  little  seat  behind.  Away  they  went. 
My  uncle  peeped  out  of  the  coach-window  as  they 
emerged  from  the  yard,  and  observed  that  the  other 
mails,  with  coachmen,  guards,  horses,  and  passengers, 
complete,  were  driving  round  and  round  in  circles,  at 
a  slow  trot  of  about  five  miles  an  hour.  My -uncle 
burnt  with  indignation,  gentlemen.  As  a  commercial 
man,  he  felt  that  the  mail  bags  were  not  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  he  resolved  to  memorialise  the  Post-office  on 
the  subject,  the  very  instant  he  reached  London. 

'At  present,  however,  his  thoughts  were  occupied 
with  the  young  lady  who  sat  in  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  coach,  with  her  face  muffled  closely  in  her  hood; 
the  gentleman  with  the  sky-blue  coat  sitting  opposite 
to  her ;  the  other  man  in  the  plum-coloured  suit,  by  her 
side;  and  both  watching  her  intently.  If  she  so  much- 
as  rustled  the  folds  of  her  hood,  he  could  hear  the  ill- 
looking  man  clap  his  hand  upon  his  sword,  and  could 
tell  by  the  other's  breathing  (it  was  so  dark  he  couldn't 
see  his  face)  that  he  was  looking  as  big  as  if  he  were 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  377 

going  to  devour  her  at  a  mouthful.  This  aroused  my 
uncle  more  and  more,  and  he  resolved,  come  what 
might,  to  see  the  end  of  it.  He  had  a  great  admira- 
tion for  bright  eyes,  and  sweet  faces,  and  pretty  legs 
and  feet ;  in  short,  he  was  fond  of  the  whole  sex.  It 
runs  in  our  family,  gentlemen — so  am  I. 

'Many  were  the  devices  which  my  uncle  practised, 
to  attract  the  lady's  attention,  or  at  all  events,  to  en- 
gage the  mysterious  gentlemen  in  conversation. 
They  were  all  in  vain;  the  gentlemen  wouldn't  talk. 
and  the  lady  didn't  dare.  He  thrust  his  head  out  of 
the  coach-window  at  intervals,  and  bawled  out  to  know 
why  they  didn't  go  faster?  But  he  called  till  he  was 
hoarse;  nobody  paid  the  least  attention  to  him.  He 
leant  back  in  the  coach,  and  thought  of  the  beautiful 
face,  and  the  feet  and  legs.  This  answered  better; 
it  whiled  away  the  time,  and  kept  him  from  wonder- 
ing where  he  was  going,  and  how  it  was  that  he  found 
himself  in  such  an  odd  situation.  Not  that  this  would 
have  worried  him  much,  any  way— he  was  a  mighty 
free  and  easy,  roving,  devil-may-care  sort  of  person, 
was  my  uncle,  gentlemen. 

'All  of  a  sudden  the  coach  stopped.  Hallo!  said 
my  uncle,  "what 's  in  the  wind  now?" 

'  "Alight  here,"  said  the  guard,  letting  down  the 

steps. 

'  "Here!"  cried  my  uncle. 

1  "Here,"  rejoined  the  guard. 

'  "I  '11  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  my  uncle. 

'  "Very  well,  then  stop  where  you  are,     sau 
guard. 

'  "I  will,'*  said  my  uncle. 

'  "Do,"  said  the  guard. 

'The  other  passengers  had  regarded  this  colloquy 
with  great  attention,  and,  finding  that  my  uncle  was 
determined  not  to  alight,  the  younger  man  squeezed 


378  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

past  him,  to  hand  the  lady  out.  At  this  moment  the 
ill-looking  man  was  inspecting  the  hole  in  the  crown 
of  his  three-cornered  hat.  As  the  young  lady  brushed 
past,  she  dropped  one  of  her  gloves  into  my  uncle's 
hand,  and  softly  whispered,  with  her  lips  so  close  to 
his  face  that  he  felt  her  warm  breath  on  his  nose,  the 
single  word  "Help!"  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  leaped 
out  of  the  coach  at  once,  with  such  violence  that  it 
rocked  on  the  springs  again. 

"Oh!  You  Ve  thought  better  of  it,  have  you?"  said 
the  guard  when  he  saw  my  uncle  standing  on  the 
ground. 

'My  uncle  looked  at  the  guard  for  a  few  seconds, 
in  some  doubt  whether  it  wouldn't  be  better  to  wrench 
his  blunderbuss  from  him,  fire  it  in  the  face  of  the  man 
with  the  big  sword,  knock  the  rest  of  the  company 
over  the  head  with  the  stock,  snatch  up  the  young  lady, 
and  go  off  in  the  smoke.  On  second  thoughts,  how- 
ever, he  abandoned  this  plan,  as  being  a  shade  too  melo- 
dramatic in  the  execution,  and  followed  the  two  mys- 
terious men,  who,  keeping  the  lady  between  them, 
were  now  entering  an  old  house  in  front  of  which  the 
coach  had  stopped.  They  turned  into  the  passage, 
and  my  uncle  followed. 

'Of  all  the  ruinous  and  desolate  places  my  uncle 
had  ever  beheld,  this  was  the  most  so.  It  looked  as  if 
it  had  once  been  a  large  house  of  entertainment;  but 
the  roof  had  fallen  in,  in  many  places,  and  the  stairs 
were  steep,  rugged,  and  broken.  There  was  a  huge 
fire-place  in  the  room  into  which  they  walked,  and  the 
chimney  was  blackened  with  smoke;  but  no  warm 
blaze  lighted  it  up  now.  The  white  feathery  dust  of* 
burnt  wood  was  still  strewed  over  the  hearth,  but  the 
stove  was  cold,  and  all  was  dark  and  gloomy. 

"Well,"  said  my  uncle,  as  he  looked  about  him,  "a 
mail  travelling  at  the  rate  of  six  miles  and  a  half  an 


970 

hour,  and  stopping  for  an  indefinite  time  at  such  a 
hole  as  this,  is  rather  an  irregular  sort  of  proceeding, 
I  fancy.  This  shall  be  made  known.  I  11  write  to 
the  papers." 

'My  uncle  said  this  in  a  pretty  loud  voice,  and  in 
an  open  unreserved  sort  of  manner,  with  the  view  of 
engaging  the  two  strangers  in  conversation  it'  lie 
could.  But,  neither  of  them  took  any  more  notice 
of  him  than  whispering  to  each  other,  and  scowling 
at  him  as  they  did  so.  The  lady  was  at  the  further 
end  of  the  room,  and  once  she  ventured  to  wave  her 
hand,  as  if  beseeching  my  uncle's  assistance. 

'At  length  the  two  strangers  advanced  a  little,  and 
the  conversation  began  in  earnest. 

'  "You  don't  knowr  this  is  a  private  room;  I  sup- 
pose, fellow?"  said  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue. 

'  "No,  I  do  not,  fellow,"  rejoined  my  uncle.  "Only 
if  this  is  a  private  room  specially  ordered  for  the  occa- 
sion, I  should  think  the  public  room  must  be  a  r<  /•// 
comfortable  one" ;  with  this  my  uncle  sat  himself  down 
in  a  high-backed  chair,  and  took  such  an  accurate  meas- 
ure of  the  gentleman,  with  his  eyes,  that  Tiggin  and 
Welps  could  have  supplied  him  with  printed  calico 
for  a  suit,  and  not  an  inch  too  much  or  too  little,  from 
that  estimate  alone. 

'"Quit  this  room,"  said  both  the  men  together, 
grasping  their  swords. 

'  "Eh?"  said  my  uncle,  not  at  all  appearing  to  com- 
prehend their  meaning. 

'  "Quit  the  room,  or  you  are  a  dead  man,    sa 
ill-looking  fellow  with  the  large  sword,  drawing  it  at 
the  same  time  and  flourishing  it  in  the  air. 

'"Down  with  him!"  cried  the  gentleman  in  sky- 
blue,  drawing  his  sword  also,  and  falling  back  two  or 
three  yards.  "Down  with  him!"  The  lady  gave  a 
loud  scream. 


380  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Now,  my  uncle  was  always  remarkable  for  great 
boldness,  and  great  presence  of  mind.  All  the  time 
that  he  had  appeared  so  indifferent  to  what  was  going 
on,  he  had  been  looking  slyly  about,  for  some  missile 
or  weapon  of  defence,  and  at  the  very  instant  when  the 
swords  were  drawn,  he  espied,  standing  in  the  chim- 
ney-corner, an  old  basket-hilted  rapier  in  a  rusty 
scabbard.  At  one  bound,  my  uncle  caught  it  in  his 
hand,  drew  it,  flourished  it  gallantly  above  his  head, 
called  aloud  to  the  lady  to  keep  out  of  the  way,  hurled 
the  chair  at  the  man  in  sky-blue,  and  the  scabbard  at 
the  man  in  plum-colour,  and  taking  advantage  of  the 
confusion,  fell  upon  them  both,  pell-mell. 

'Gentlemen,  there  is  an  old  story — none  the  worse 
for  being  true — regarding  a  fine  young  Irish  gen- 
tleman, who  being  asked  if  he  could  play  the  fiddle, 
replied  he  had  no  doubt  he  could,  but  he  couldn't 
exactly  say,  for  certain,  because  he  had  never  tried. 
This  is  not  inapplicable  to  my  uncle  and  his  fencing. 
He  had  never  had  a  sword  in  his  hand  before,  except 
once  when  he  played  Richard  the  Third  at  a  private 
theatre:  upon  which  occasion  it  was  arranged  with 
Richmond  that  he  was  to  be  run  through,  from  behind, 
without  showing  fight  at  all.  But  here  he  was,  cut- 
ting and  slashing  with  two  experienced  swordsmen: 
thrusting  and  guarding  and  poking  and  slicing,  and 
acquitting  himself  in  the  most  manful  and  dexterous 
manner  possible,  although  up  to  that  time  he  had 
never  been  aware  that  he  had  the  least  notion  of  the 
science.  It  only  shows  how  true  the  old  saying  is, 
that  a  man  never  knows  what  he  can  do,  till  he  tries, 
gentlemen. 

'The  noise  of  the  combat  was  terrific;  each  of  the 
three  combatants  swearing  like  troopers,  and  their 
swords  clashing  with  as  much  noise  as  if  all  the  knives 
and  steels  in  Newport  Market  were  rattling  together. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  381 

at  the  same  time.  When  it  was  at  its  very  height,  the 
lady  (to  encourage  my  uncle  most  probably)  with- 
drew her  hood  entirely  from  her  face,  and  disclosed 
a  countenance  of  such  dazzling  beauty,  that  he  would 
have  fought  against  fifty  men,  to  win  one  smile  from 
it,  and  die.  He  had  done  wonders  before,  but  now 
he  began  to  powder  away  like  a  raving  mad  giant. 

'At  this  very  moment,  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue 
turning  round,  and  seeing  the  young  lady  with  her 
face  uncovered,  vented  an  exclamation  of  rage  and 
jealousy,  and,  turning  his  weapon  against  her  beau- 
tiful bosom,  pointed  a  thrust  at  her  heart,  which 
caused  my  uncle  to  utter  a  cry  of  apprehension  that 
made  the  building  ring.  The  lady  stepped  lightly 
aside,  and  snatching  the  young  man's  sword  from  his 
hand,  before  he  had  recovered  his  balance,  drove  him 
to  the  wall,  and  running  it  through  him,  and  the 
panelling,  up  to  the  very  hilt,  pinned  him  there,  hard 
and  fast.  It  was  a  splendid  example.  My  uncle, 
with  a  loud  shout  of  triumph,  and  a  strength  that  was 
irresistible,  made  his  adversary  retreat  in  the  same 
direction,  and  plunging  the  old  rapier  into  the  very 
centre  of  a  large  red  flower  in  the  pattern  of  his  waist- 
coat, nailed  him  beside  his  friend;  there  they  both 
stood,  gentlemen,  jerking  their  arms  and  legs  about, 
in  agony,  like  the  toy-shop  figures  that  are  moved  by 
a  piece  of  packthread.  My  uncle  always  said,  after- 
wards, that  this  was  one  of  the  surest  means  he  knew 
of,  for  disposing  of  an  enemy;  but  it  was  liable  to  one 
objection  on  the  ground  of  expense,  inasmuch  as  it 
involved  the  loss  of  a  sword  for  every  man  disabled. 

'  "The  mail,  the  mail!"  cried  the  lady,  running  up 
to  my  uncle  and  throwing  her^beautiful  arms  around 
his  neck  •  "we  may  yet  escape."  ? 

'"May!"  cried  my  uncle;  "why,  my  dear,  ther. 
no  one  else  to  kill,  is  there?"      My  uncle  was  rather 


382  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

disappointed,  gentlemen,  for  he  thought  a  little  quiet 
bit  of  love-making  would  be  agreeable  after  the 
slaughtering,  if  it  were  only  to  change  the  subject. 

"We  have  not  an  instant  to  lose  here,"  said  the 
young  lady.  "He  (pointing  to  the  young  gentleman 
in  sky-blue)  is  the  only  son  of  the  powerful  Marquis 
of  Filletoville." 

"Well,  then,  my  dear,  I  'm  afraid  he  '11  never  come 
to  the  title,"  said  my  uncle,  looking  coo^y  at  the 
young  gentleman  as  he  stood  fixed  up  against  the  wall, 
in  the  cockchafer  fashion  I  have  described.  "You 
have  cut  off  the  entail,  my  love." 

'  "I  have  been  torn  from  my  home  and  friends  by 
these  villains,"  said  the  young  lady,  her  features  glow- 
ing with  indignation.  "That  wretch  would  have  mar- 
ried me  by  violence  in  another  hour." 

"Confound  his  impudence!"  said  my  uncle,  be- 
stowing a  very  contemptuous  look  on  the  dying  heir 
of  Filletoville. 

*  "As  you  may  guess  from  what  you  have  seen," 
said  the  young  lady,  "the  party  were  prepared  to 
murder  me  if  I  appealed  to  any  one  for  assistance. 
If  their  accomplices  find  us  here,  we  are  lost.  Two 
minutes  hence  may  be  too  late.  The  mail!"  With 
these  words,  overpowered  by  her  feelings,  and  the 
exertion  of  sticking  the  young  Marquis  of  Filleto- 
ville, she  sank  into  my  uncle's  arms.  My  uncle 
caught  her  up,  and  bore  her  to  the  house-door. 
There  stood  the  mail,  with  four  long-tailed,  flowing- 
maned,  black  horses,  ready  harnessed;  but  no  coach- 
man, no  guard,  no  hostler  even,  at  the  horses'  heads. 

'Gentlemen,  I  hope  I  do  no  injustice  to  my  uncle's 
memory,  when  I  express  my  opinion,  that  although  he 
was  a  bachelor,  he  had  held  some  ladies  in  his  arms, 
before  this  time;  I  believe,  indeed,  that  he  had  rather 
a  habit  of  kissing  barmaids ;  and  I  know,  that  in  one 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

or  two  instances,  he  had  been  seen  by  credible  wit- 
nesses, to  hug  a  landlady  in  a  very  perceptible  man- 
ner. I  mention  the  circumstance,  to  show  what  a  very 
uncommon  sort  of  person  this  beautiful  young  lady 
must  have  been,  to  have  affected  my  uncle  in  the  way 
she  did;  he  used  to  say,  that  as  her  long  dark  hair 
trailed  over  his  arm,  and  her  beautiful  dark  t  \ 
themselves  upon  his  face  when  she  recovered,  he  felt 
so  strange  and  nervous  that  his  legs  trembled  beneath 
Ir'ni.  But,  who  can  look  into  a  sweet  soft  pair  of 
dark  eyes,  without  feeling  queer  ?  /  can't,  gentlemen. 
I  am  afraid  to  look  at  some  eyes  I  know,  and  that 's 
the  truth  of  it. 

'  "You  will  never  leave  me?"  murmured  the  young 
lady. 

"Never,"  said  my  uncle.     And  he  meant  it  too. 
'  "My  dear  preserver!"  exclaimed  the  young  lady. 
"My  dear,  kind,  brave  preserver!" 

'  "Don't,"  said  my  uncle,  interrupting  her. 
4  "Why?"  inquired  the  young  lady. 
'  "Because  your  mouth  looks  so  beautiful  when  you 
speak,"  rejoined  my  uncle,  "that  I  'in  afraid  I  shall  be 
rude  enough  to  kiss  it." 

'The  young  lady  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  caution 
mv  uncle  not  to  do  so,  and  said— no,  she  didn't  say 
anything— she  smiled.     When  you  are  looking  at  a 
pair  of  the  most  delicious  lips  in  the  world,  and 
them  gently  break  into  a  roguish  smile— if  you  are 
very  near  them,   and  nobody  else  by— you  cannol 
better  testify  your  admiration  of  their  beautiful : 
and  colour  than  by  kissing  them  at  once.     My  un< 
did  so,  and  I  honour  him  for  it. 

'"Hark!"  cried  the  young  lady,  starting, 
noise  of  wheels  and  horses!" 

'  "So  it  is,"  said  my  uncle,  listening, 
good  ear  for  wheels,  and  the  trampling  of  hoofs;  b 


384  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

there  appeared  to  be  so  many  horses  and  carriages 
rattling  towards  them,  from  a  distance,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  form  a  guess  at  their  number.  The 
sound  was  like  that  of  fifty  brakes,  with  six  blood 
cattle  in  each. 

"We  are  pursued!"  cried  the  young  lady,  clasp- 
ing her  hands.  "We  are  pursued.  I  have  no  hope 
but  in  you!" 

'There  was  such  an  expression  of  terror  in  her 
beautiful  face,  that  my  uncle  made  up  his  mind  at 
once.  He  lifted  her  into  the  coach,  told  her  not  to 
be  frightened,  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  once  more,  and 
then  advising  her  to  draw  up  the  window  to  keep 
the  cold  air  out,  mounted  to  the  box. 

'  "Stay,  love,"  cried  the  young  lady. 

'"What's  the  matter?"  said  my  uncle,  from  the 
coach-box. 

'  "I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said  the  young  lady; 
"only  a  word.  Only  one  word,  dearest." 

*  "Must  I  get  down?"  inquired  my  uncle.     The 
lady  made  no  answer,  but  she  smiled  again.     Such 
a  smile,  gentlemen !     It  beat  the  other  one,  all  to  noth- 
ing.    My  uncle  descended  from  his  perch  in  a  twink- 
ling. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?"  said  my  uncle,  looking  in 
at  the  coach-window.  The  lady  happened  to  bend 
forward  at  the  same  time,  and  my  uncle  thought  she 
looked  more  beautiful  than  she  had  done  yet.  He 
was  very  close  to  her  just  then,  gentlemen,  so  he 
really  ought  to  know. 

*  "What  is  it,  my  dear?"  said  my  uncle. 

'  "Will  you  never  love  any  one  but  me — never 
marry  any  one  beside?"  said  the  young  lady. 

'My  uncle  swore  a  great  oath  that  he  never  would 
marry  anybody  else,  and  the  young  lady  drew  in  her 
head,  and  pulled  up  the  window.  He  jumped  upon 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  885 

the  box,  squared  his  elbows,  adjusted  the  ribands, 
seized  the  whip  which  lay  on  the  roof,  gave  one  flick 
to  the  off  leader,  and  away  went  the  four  long-tailed 
flowing-maned  black  horses,  at  fifteen  good  English 
miles  an  hour,  with  the  old  mail  coach  behind  them. 
Whew!  How  they  tore  along! 

'The  noise  behind  grew  louder.  The  faster  the  old 
mail  went,  the  faster  came  the  pursuers — men,  horses, 
dogs,  were  leagued  in  the  pursuit.  The  noise  was 
frightful,  but,  above  all,  rose  the  voice  of  the  young 
lady,  urging  my  uncle  on,  and  shrieking,  "Faster! 
Faster!" 

'They  whirled  past  the  dark  trees,  as  feathers 
would  be  swept  before  a  hurricane.  Houses,  gates, 
churches,  haystacks,  objects  of  every  kind  they  shot 
by,  with  a  velocity  and  noise  like  roaring  waters  sud- 
denly let  loose.  Still  the  noise  of  pursuit  grew 
louder,  and  still  my  uncle  could  hear  the  young  lad\ 
wildly  screaming,  "Faster!  Faster!" 

'My  uncle  plied  whip  and  rein  and  the  horses  flew 
onward  till  they  were  white  with  foam;  and  yet  the 
noise  behind  increased;  and  yet  the  young  lady  cried, 
"Faster!  Faster!"  My  uncle  gave  a  loud  stamp  on 
the  boot  in  the  energy  of  the  moment,  and— found 
that  it  was  grey  morning,  and  he  was  sitting  in  the 
wheelwright's  yard,  on  the  box  of  an  old  Edinburgh 
mail,  shivering  with  the  cold  and  wet  and  stamping  his 
feet  to  warm  them!  He  got  down,  and  looked 
eagerly  inside  for  the  beautiful  young  lady.  Ala 
There  was  neither  door  nor  seat  to  the  coach. 

a  mere  shell. 

'Of  course,  my  uncle  knew  very  well  that  there  i 
some  mystery  in  the  matter,  and  that  everything  had 
paTsed  eyxactfy  as  he  used  to  relate  it.     He  remained 
launch  to  the  great  oath  he  had  sworn  to  the  beau^ 
ful  young  lady:  refusing  several  eligible  landlad 


386  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

on  her  account,  and  dying  a  bachelor  at  last.  He 
always  said,  what  a  curious  thing  it  was  that  he  should 
have  found  out,  by  such  a  mere  accident  as  his 
clambering  over  the  palings,  that  the  ghosts  of  mail- 
coaches  and  horses,  guards,  coachmen,  and  passengers, 
were  in  the  habit  of  making  journeys  regularly  every 
night.  He  used  to  add,  that  he  believed  he  was  the 
only  living  person  who  had  ever  been  taken  as  a  pas- 
senger on  one  of  these  excursions.  And  I  think  he 
was  right,  gentlemen — at  least  I  never  heard  of  any 
other.' 

'I  wonder  what  these  ghosts  of  mail-coaches  earn- 
in  their  bags,'  said  the  landlord,  who  had  listened  to 
the  whole  story  with  profound  attention. 

'The  dead  letters,  of  course,'  said  the  Bagman. 

'Oh,  ah!  To  be  sure,'  rejoined  the  landlord.  'I 
never  thought  of  that.' 


CHAPTER  L 

HOW  MR.  PICKWICK  SPED  UPON  HIS  MISSION,  AND  HOW 
HE  WAS  REINFORCED  IN  THE  OUTSET  BY  A  MOST 
UNEXPECTED  AUXILIARY 

THE  horses  were  put  to,  punctually  at  a  quarter  before 
nine  next  morning,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Wel- 
ler  having  each  taken  his  seat,  the  one  inside  and  the 
other  out,  the  postillion  was  duly  directed  to  repair 
in  the  first  instance  to  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  house,  for 
the  purpose  of  taking  up  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  no  small  astonishment,  when 
the  carriage  drew  up  before  the  door  with  the  red 
lamp,  and  the  very  legible  inscription  of  'Sawyer,  late 
Nockemorf,'  that  Mr.  Pickwick  saw.  on  popping  his 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  387 

head  out  of  the  coach-window,  the  boy  in  the  grey  liv- 
ery very  busily  employed  in  putting  up  the  shutters; 
the  which,  being  an  unusual  and  an  un-bu.sii ass-like 
proceeding  at  that  hour  of  the  morning,  at  once  sug- 
gested to  his  mind,  two  inferences;  the  one,  that  some 
good  friend  and  patient  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  ua> 
dead;  the  other,  that  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself  was 
bankrupt. 

What  is  the  matter?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  the  boy. 

'Nothing  's  the  matter,  sir,'  replied  the  boy,  expand- 
ing his  mouth  to  the  whole  breadth  of  his  countenance. 

'All  right,  all  right!'  cried  Bob  Sawyer,  suddenly 
appearing  at  the  door,  with  a  small  leather  knapsack. 
limp  and  dirty,  in  one  hand,  and  a  rough  coat  and 

shawl  thrown  over  the  other  arm.     'I'm  goim--,  old 

j?  n       > 

lellow. 

'You!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  'and  a  regular  expedi- 
tion we '11  make  of  it.  Here,  Sam!  Lookout!'  Thus 
briefly  bespeaking  Mr.  Weller's  attention,  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  jerked  the  leather  knapsack  into  the  dickey, 
where  it  was  immediately  stowed  away,  under  the 
seat,  by  Sam,  who  regarded  the  proceeding  with  great 
admiration.  This  done,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  boy,  forcibly  worked  himself  into  the 
rough  coat,  which  was  a  few  sizes  too  small  for  him. 
and  then  advancing  to  the  coach-window,  thrust  in  his 
head,  and  laughed  boisterously. 

'What  a  start  it  is,  isn't  it!'  cried  Bob,  wiping  the 
tears  out  of  his  eyes,  with  one  of  the  cuffs  of  the  rough 
coat. 

'My  dear  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  some  embar- 
rassment, 'I  had  no  idea  of  your  accompanying  us-.' 

'Xo,  that 's  just  the  very  thing,'  replied  Bob,  sei/inu 
Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  lappel  of  his  coat.  'That 's  the 
ioke.' 

;' 


388  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Oh,  that 's  the  joke?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Of  course/  replied  Bob.  'It 's  the  whole  point  of 
the  thing,  you  know — that,  and  leaving  the  business 
to  take  care  of  itself,  as  it  seems  to  have  made  up  its 
mind  not  to  take  care  of  me/  With  this  explanation 
of  the  phenomenon  of  the  shutters,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
pointed  to  the  shop,  and  relapsed  into  an  ecstasy  of 
mirth. 

'Bless  me,  you  are  surely  not  mad  enough  to  think 
of  leaving  your  patients  without  anybody  to  attend 
them!'  remonstrated  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a  very  serious 
tone. 

'Why  not?'  asked  Bob,  in  reply.  'I  shall  save  by  it, 
you  know.  None  of  them  ever  pay.  Besides,'  said 
Bob,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  'they 
will  be  all  the  better  for  it;  for,  being  nearly  out  of 
drugs,  and  not  able  to  increase  my  account  just  now, 
I  should  have  been  obliged  to  give  them  calomel  all 
round,  and  it  would  have  been  certain  to  have  disa- 
greed with  some  of  them.  So  it 's  all  for  the  best.' 

There  was  a  philosophy,  and  a  strength  of  reason- 
ing, about  this  reply,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not 
prepared  for.  He  paused  a  few  moments,  and  added, 
less  firmly  than  before — 

'But  this  chaise,  my  young  friend,  will  only  hold 
two;  and  I  am  pledged  to  Mr.  Allen.' 

'Don't  think  of  me  for  a  minute,'  replied  Bob. 
'I  've  arranged  it  all;  Sam  and  I  will  share  the  dickey 
between  us.     Look  here.     This  little  bill  is  to  be  wa- 
fered  on  the  shop  door:     "Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf. 
Enquire  of  Mrs.  Cripps  over  the  way."     Mrs.  Cripps 
is  my  boy's  mother.     "Mr.  Sawyer  's  very  sorry,"  says ' 
Mrs.  Cripps,  "couldn't  help  it — fetched  away  early 
this  morning  to  a  consultation  of  the  very  first  sur- 
geons in  the  country — couldn't   do  without  him— 
would  have  him  at  any  price — tremendous  operation." 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  389 

The  fact  is,'  said  Bob,  in  conclusion,  'it  '11  do  me  more 
good  than  otherwise,  I  expect.  If  it  gets  into  one  of 
the  local  papers,  it  will  be  the  making  of  me.  Here  's 
Ben;  now  then,  jump  in!' 

With  these  hurried  words,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  pushed 
the  postboy  on  one  side,  jerked  his  friend  into  the 
vehicle,  slammed  the  door,  put  up  the  steps,  wafered 
the  bill  on  the  street  door,  locked  it,  put  the  key  in  his 
pocket,  jumped  into  the  dickey,  gave  the  word  for 
starting,  and  did  the  whole  with  such  extraordinary 
precipitation,  that  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had  well  be- 
gun to  consider  whether  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ought  to  go 
or  not,  they  were  rolling  away,  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
thoroughly  established  as  part  and  parcel  of  the 
equipage. 

So  long  as  their  progress  was  confined  to  the  streets 
of  Bristol,  the ,  facetious  Bob  kept  his  professional 
green  spectacles  on,  and  conducted  himself  with  be- 
coming steadiness  and  gravity  of  demeanour;  merely 
giving  utterance  to  divers  verbal  witticisms  for  the 
exclusive  behoof  and  entertainment  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller.  But  when  they  emerged  on  the  open  road, 
he  threw  off  his  green  spectacles  and  his  gravity  to- 
gether, and  performed  a  great  variety  of  practical 
jokes,  which  were  calculated  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  passers-by,  and  to  render  the  carriage  and  those 
it  contained,  objects  of  more  than  ordinary  curiosity; 
the  least  conspicuous  among  these  feats  being  a  most 
vociferous  imitation  of  a  key-bugle,  and  the  ostenta- 
tious display  of  a  crimson  silk  pocket-handkerchief 
attached  to  a  walking-stick,  which  was  occasionally 
waved  in  the  air  with  various  gestures  indicative  of 
supremacy  and  defiance. 

'I  wonder,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopping  in  the  midst 
of  a  most  sedate  conversation  with  Ben  Allen,  bear- 
ing reference  to  the  numerous  good  qualities  of  Mr. 


390  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Winkle  and  his  sister :  'I  wonder  what  all  the  people 
we  pass,  can  see  in  us  to  make  them  stare  so?' 

'It 's  a  neat  turn-out,'  replied  Ben  Allen,  with  some- 
thing of  pride  in  his  tone.  'They  're  not  used  to  see 
this  sort  of  thing,  every  day,  I  dare  say.' 

'Possibly,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'It  may  be  so. 
Perhaps  it  is.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  might  very  probably  have  reasoned 
himself  into  the  belief  that  it  really  was:  had  he  not, 
just  then  happening  to  look  out  of  the  coach -window, 
observed  that  the  looks  of  the  passengers  betokened 
anything  but  respectful  astonishment,  and  that  vari- 
ous telegraphic  communications  appeared  to  be  pass- 
ing between  them  and  some  persons  outside  the 
vehicle :  whereon  it  occurred  to  him  that  these  demon- 
strations might  be,  in  some  remote  degree,  referable 
to  the  humorous  deportment  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer. 

'I  hope,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'that  our  volatile  friend 
is  committing  no  absurdities  in  that  dickey  behind.' 

'Oh  dear,  no,'  replied  Ben  Allen.  'Except  when 
he  's  elevated,  Bob  's  the  quietest  creature  breathing.' 

Here  a  prolonged  imitation  of  a  key-bugle  broke 
upon  the  ear,  succeeded  by  cheers  and  screams,  all  of 
which  evidently  proceeded  from  the  throat  and  lungs 
of  the  quietest  creature  breathing,  or  in  plainer  desig- 
nation, of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  looked  expres- 
sively at  each  other,  and  the  former  gentleman  taking 
off  his  hat,  and  leaning  out  of  the  coach-window  until 
nearly  the  whole  of  his  waistcoat  was  outside  it, 
was  at  length  enabled  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his 
facetious  friend. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  seated :  not  in  the  dickey,  but 
on  the  roof  of  the  chaise,  with  his  legs  as  far  asunder 
as  they  would  conveniently  go,  wearing  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller's  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  bearing,  in 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  391 

one  hand,  a  most  enormous  sandwich,  while,  in  the 
other,  he  supported  a  goodly-sized  case-bottle,  to  both 
of  which  he  applied  himself  with  intense  relish :  vary- 
ing the  monotony  of  the  occupation  by  an  occasional 
howl,  or  the  interchange  of  some  lively  badinage  with 
any  passing  stranger.  The  crimson  flag  was  care- 
fully tied  in  an  erect  position  to  the  rail  of  the  dickey ; 
and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  decorated  with  Bob  Saw- 
yer's hat,  was  seated  in  the  centre  thereof,  discussing 
a  twin  sandwich,  with  an  animated  countenance,  the 
expression  of  which  betokened  his  entire  and  perfect 
approval  of  the  whole  arrangement. 

This  was  enough  to  irritate  a  gentleman  with  Mr. 
Pickwick's  sense  of  propriety,  but  it  was  not  the  whole 
extent  of  the  aggravation,  for  a  stage-coach  full,  in- 
side and  out,  was  meeting  them  at  the  moment,  and 
the  astonishment  of  the  passengers  was  very  palpably 
evinced.  The  congratulations  of  an  Irish  family,  too, 
who  were  keeping  up  with  the  chaise,  and  begging  all 
the  time,  were  of  rather  a  boisterous  description ;  espe- 
cially those  of  its  male  head,  who  appeared  to  consider 
the  display  as  part  and  parcel  of  some  political,  or 
other  procession  of  triumph. 

'Mr.  Sawyer!'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement.  'Mr.  Sawyer,  sir!' 

'Hallo!'  responded  that  gentleman,  looking  over  the 
side  of  the  chaise  with  all  the  coolness  in  life. 

'Are  you  mad,  sir?'  demanded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Not  a  bit  of  it,'  replied  Bob;  'only  cheerful.' 

'Cheerful,  sir!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick.  Take 
down  that  scandalous  red  handkerchief,  I  beg.  I  in- 
sist, sir.  Sam,  take  it  down.' 

Before  Sam  could  interpose,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
gracefully  struck  his  colours,  and  having  put  them  in 
his  pocket,  nodded  in  a  courteous  manner  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick wiped  the  mouth  of  the  case-bottle,  and  applied 


392  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

it  to  his  own;  thereby  informing  him,  without  any 
unnecessary  waste  of  words,  that  he  devoted  that 
draught  to  wishing  him  all  manner  of  happiness  and 
prosperity.  Having  done  this,  Bob  replaced  the  cork 
with  great  care,  and  looking  benignantly  down  on 
Mr.  Pickwick,  took  a  large  bite  out  of  the  sandwich, 
and  smiled. 

'Come,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  momentary  anger 
was  not  quite  proof  against  Bob's  immovable  self- 
possession,  'pray  let  us  have  no  more  of  this  absurdity.' 

'No,  no,'  replied  Bob,  once  more  exchanging  hats 
with  Mr.  Weller ;  'I  did  n't  mean  to  do  it,  only  I  got  so 
enlivened  with  the  ride  that  I  couldn't  help  it.' 

'Think  of  the  look  of  the  thing,'  expostulated  Mr. 
Pickwick;  'have  some  regard  to  appearances.' 

'Oh,  certainly,'  said  Bob,  'it 's  not  the  sort  of  thing 
at  all.  All  over,  governor.' 

Satisfied  with  this  assurance,  Mr.  Pickwick  once 
more  drew  his  head  into  the  chaise  and  pulled  up  the 
glass;  but  he  had  scarcely  resumed  the  conversation 
which  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  interrupted,  when  he  was 
somewhat  startled  by  the  apparition  of  a  small  dark 
body,  of  an  oblong  form,  on  the  outside  of  the  win- 
dow, which  gave  sundry  taps  against  it,  as  if  impa- 
tient of  admission. 

'What 's  this  ?'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It  looks  like  a  case-bottle,'  remarked  Ben  Allen, 
eyeing  the  object  in  question  through  his  spectacles 
with  some  interest;  'I  rather  think  it  belongs  to  Bob.' 

The  impression  was  perfectly  accurate;  for  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  having  attached  the  case-bottle  to  the 
end  of  the  walking-stick,  was  battering  the  window* 
with  it,  in  token  of  his  wish  that  his  friends  inside 
would  partake  of  its  contents,  in  all  good-fellowship 
and  harmony. 

'What's  to  be  done?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  398 

at  the  bottle.     'This  proceeding  is  more  absurd  than 
the  other.' 

'I  think  it  would  be  best  to  take  it  in,'  replied  Mr. 
Ben  Allen ;  'it  would  serve  him  right  to  take  it  in  and 
keep  it,  wouldn't  it?' 

'It  would,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  'shall  I?' 

'I  think  it  the  most  proper  course  we  could  possibly 
adopt,'  replied  Ben. 

This  advice  quite  coinciding  with  his  own  opinion, 
Mr.  Pickwick  gently  let  down  the  window  and  disen- 
gaged the  bottle  from  the  stick :  upon  which  the  latter 
was  drawn  up,  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  heard  to 
laugh  heartily. 

'What  a  merry  dog  it  is !'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  look- 
ing round  at  his  companion  with  the  bottle  in  his  hand. 

'He  is,'  said  Mr.  Allen. 

'You  cannot  possibly  be  angry  with  him,'  remarked 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Quite  out  of  the  question/  observed  Benjamin 
Allen. 

During  this  short  interchange  of  sentiments,  Mr. 
Pickwick  had,  in  an  abstracted  mood,  uncorked  the 
bottle. 

'What  is  it?'  inquired  Ben  Allen,  carelessly. 

'I  don't  know,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  equal 
carelessness.  It  smells,  I  think,  like  milk-punch.' 

'Oh,  indeed?'  said  Ben. 

'I  think  so,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  very  properly 
guarding  himself  against  the  possibility  of  stating  an 
untruth.  'Mind,  I  could  not  undertake  to  say  cer- 
tainly, without  tasting  it.' 

'You  had  better  do  so,'  said  Ben;  'we  may  as  well 
know  what  it  is.' 

'Do  you  think  so?'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.      Well 
if  you  are  curious  to  know,  of  course  I  have  no 
objection.' 


394  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Ever  willing  to  sacrifice  his  own  feelings  to  the 
wishes  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Pickwick  at  once  took  a 
pretty  long  taste. 

'What  is  it?'  inquired  Ben  Allen,  interrupting  him 
with  some  impatience. 

'Curious,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips,  'I 
hardly  know,  now.  Oh,  yes!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
after  a  second  taste.  'It  is  punch.' 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick ;  Mr.  Pick- 
wick looked  at  Mr.  Ben  Allen;  Mr.  Ben  Allen  smiled; 
Mr.  Pickwick  did  not. 

'It  would  serve  him  right,'  said  the  last-named  gen- 
tleman, with  some  severity,  'it  would  serve  him  right 
to  drink  it  every  drop.' 

'The  very  thing  that  occurred  to  me/  said  Ben 
Allen. 

'Is  it  indeed?'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Then 
here  's  his  health !'  With  these  words,  that  excellent 
person  took  a  most  energetic  pull  at  the  bottle,  and 
handed  it  to  Ben  Allen,  who  was  not  slow  to  imitate 
his  example.  The  smiles  became  mutual,  and  the 
milk-punch  was  gradually  and  cheerfully  disposed  of. 

'After  all,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  drained  the  last 
drop,  'his  pranks  are  really  very  amusing;  very  enter- 
taining indeed.' 

'You  may  say  that,'  rejoined  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  In 
proof  of  Bob  Sawyer's  being  one  of  the  funniest  fel- 
lows alive,  he  proceeded  to  entertain  Mr.  Pickwick 
with  a  long  and  circumstantial  account  how  that  gen- 
tleman once  drank  himself  into  a  fever  and  got  his 
head  shaved ;  the  relation  of  which  pleasant  and  agree- 
able history  was  only  stopped  by  the  stoppage  of  the* 
chaise  at  the  Bell  at  Berkeley  Heath,  to  change  horses. 

'I  say!  We  're  going  to  dine  here,  are  n't  we?'  said 
Bob,  looking  in  at  the  window. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  395 

'Dine!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Why,  we  have  only 
come  nineteen  miles,  and  have  eighty-seven  and  a  lialV 
to  go.' 

'Just  the  reason  why  we  should  take  something  to 
enable  us  to  bear  up  against  the  fatigue,'  remonstrated 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Oh,  it 's  quite  impossible  to  dine  at  half -past  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  day,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at 
his  watch. 

'So  it  is,'  rejoined  Bob,  'lunch  is  the  very  thing. 
Hallo,  you  sir!  Lunch  for  three,  directly,  and  keep 
the  horses  back  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Tell  them 
to  put  everything  they  have  cold,  on  the  table,  and 
some  bottled  ale,  and  let  us  taste  your  very  best  ma- 
deira.' Issuing  these  orders  with  monstrous  impor- 
tance and  bustle,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  at  once  hurried  into 
the  house  to  superintend  the  arrangements;  in  less 
than  five  minutes  he  returned  and  declared  them  to  be 
excellent. 

The  quality  of  the  lunch  fully  justified  the  eulo- 
gium  which  Bob  had  pronounced,  and  very  great  jus- 
tice was  done  to  it,  not  only  by  that  gentleman,  but 
Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  Mr.  Pickwick  also.  Under  the 
auspices  of  the  three,  the  bottled  ale  and  the  madeira 
were  promptly  disposed  of;  and  when  (the  horses  be- 
ing once  more  put  to)  they  resumed  their  seats,  with 
the  case-bottle  full  of  the  best  substitute  for  milk- 
punch  that  could  be  procured  on  so  short  a  notice,  the 
key-bugle  sounded,  and  the  red  flag  waved,  without 
the  slightest  opposition  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  part. 

At  the  Hop  Pole  at  Tewkesbury,  they  stopped  to 
dine;  upon  which  occasion  there  was  more  bottled  ale, 
with  some  more  madeira,  and  some  port  besides;  and 
here  the  case-bottle  was  replenished  for  the  fourth 
time.  Under  the  influence  of  these  combined  stim- 


396  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ulants,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  fell  fast 
asleep  for  thirty  miles,  while  Bob  and  Mr.  Weller 
sang  duets  in  the  dickey. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  Mr.  Pickwick  roused  him- 
self sufficiently  to  look  out  of  the  window.  The 
straggling  cottages  by  the  road-side,  the  dingy  hue  of 
every  object  visible,  the  murky  atmosphere,  the  paths 
of  cinders  and  brick-dust,  the  deep-red  glow  of  fur- 
nace fires  in  the  distance,  the  volumes  of  dense  smoke 
issuing  heavily  from  high  toppling  chimneys,  black- 
ening and  obscuring  everything  around;  the  glare  of 
distant  lights,  the  ponderous  waggons  which  toiled 
along  the  road,  laden  with  clashing  rods  of  iron,  or 
piled  with  heavy  goods — all  betokened  their  rapid 
approach  to  the  great  working  town  of  Birmingham. 

As  they  rattled  through  the  narrow  thoroughfares 
leading  to  the  heart  of  the  turmoil,  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  earnest  occupation  struck  more  forcibly  on 
the  senses.  The  streets  were  thronged  with  working- 
people.  The  hum  of  labour  resounded  from  every 
house,  lights  gleamed  from  the  long  casement  win- 
dows in  the  attic  stories,  and  the  whirl  of  wheels  and 
noise  of  machinery  shook  the  trembling  walls.  The 
fires,  whose  lurid  sullen  light  had  been  visible  for 
miles,  blazed  fiercely  up,  in  the  great  works  and  fac- 
tories of  the  town.  The  din  of  hammers,  the  rushing 
of  steam,  and  the  dead  heavy  clanking  of  engines, 
was  the  harsh  music  which  arose  from  every  quarter. 

The  postboy  was  driving  briskly  through  the  open 
streets,  and  past  the  handsome  and  well-lighted  shops 
which  intervene  between  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and 
the  Old  Royal  Hotel,  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had  begun- 
to  consider  the  very  difficult  and  delicate  nature  of  the 
commission  which  had  carried  him  thither. 

The  delicate  nature  of  this  commission,  and  the 
difficulty  of  executing  it  in  a  satisfactory  manner, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  397 

were  by  no  means  lessened  by  the  voluntary  compan- 
ionship of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  Truth  to  tell/Mr.  Pick- 
wick felt  that  his  presence  on  the  occasion,  however 
considerate  and  gratifying,  was  by  no  means  an  hon- 
our he  would  willingly  have  sought;  in  fact,  he  would 
cheerfully  have  given  a  reasonable  sum  of  money  to 
have  had  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  removed  to  any  place  at 
not  less  than  fifty  miles'  distance,  without  delay. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  never  held  any  personal  commu- 
nication with  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  although  he  had 
once  or  twice  corresponded  with  him  by  letter,  and 
returned  satisfactory  answers  to  his  inquiries  concern- 
ing the  moral  character  and  behaviour  of  his  son;  he 
felt  nervously  sensible  that  to  wait  upon  him,  for  the 
first  time,  attended  by  Bob  Sawyer  and  Ben  Allen, 
both  slightly  fuddled,  was  not  the  most  ingenious  and 
likely  means  that  could  have  been  hit  upon  to  prepos- 
sess him  in  his  favour. 

'However,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  endeavouring  to  re- 
assure himself,  'I  must  do  the  best  I  can.  I  must  see 
him  to-night,  for  I  faithfully  promised  to  do  so.  If 
they  persist  in  accompanying  me,  I  must  make  the 
interview  as  brief  as  possible,  and  be  content  to  hope 
that,  for  their  own  sakes,  they  will  not  expose  them- 
selves. 

As  he  comforted  himself  with  these  reflections,  the 
chaise  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Old  Royal.  Ben 
Allen  having  been  partially  awakened  from  a  stu- 
pendous sleep,  and  dragged  out  by  the  collar  by  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  enabled  to  alight. 
They  were  shown  to  a  comfortable  apartment,  and 
Mr  *  Pickwick  at  once  propounded  a  question  to  the 
waiter  concerning  the  whereabout  of  Mr.  Winkle  s 


'Close  by,  sir,'  said  the  waiter,  'not  above  five  hun- 
dred vards,  sir.     Mr.  Winkle  is  a  wharfinger,  sir,  at 


398  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  canal,  sir.  Private  residence  is  not — oh  dear  no, 
sir,  not  five  hundred  yards,  sir.'  Here  the  waiter  blew 
a  candle  out,  and  made  a  feint  of  lighting  it  again,  in 
order  to  afford  Mr.  Pickwick  an  opportunity  of  ask- 
ing any  further  questions,  if  he  felt  so  disposed. 

'Take  anything  now,  sir?'  said  the  waiter,  lighting 
the  candle  in  desperation  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  silence. 
'Tea  or  coffee,  sir?  Dinner,  sir?' 

'Nothing  now.' 

'Very  good,  sir.     Like  to  order  supper,  sir?' 

'Not  just  now.' 

'Very  good,  sir.'  Here,  he  walked  softly  to  the 
door,  and  then  stopping  short,  turned  round,  and  said, 
with  great  suavity— 

'Shall  I  send  the  chambermaid,  gentlemen?' 

'You  may,  if  you  please,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'If  you  please,  sir.' 

'And  bring  some  soda  water,'  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Soda  water,  sir?  Yes,  sir.'  With  his  mind  appar- 
ently relieved  from  an  overwhelming  weight,  by  hav- 
ing at  last  got  an  order  for  something,  the  waiter 
imperceptibly  melted  away.  Waiters  never  walk  or 
run.  They  have  a  peculiar  and  mysterious  power  of 
skimming  out  of  rooms,  which  other  mortals  possess 
not. 

Some  slight  symptoms  of  vitality  having  been 
awakened  in  Mr.  Ben  Allen  by  the  soda  water,  he 
suffered  himself  to  be  prevailed  upon  to  wash  his  face 
and  hands,  and  to  submit  to  be  brushed  by  Sam.  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Bob  Sawyer  having  also  repaired  the 
disorder  which  the  journey  had  made  in  their  apparel, 
the  three  started  forth,  arm  in  arm,  to  Mr.  Winkle's ,. 
Bob  Sawyer  impregnating  the  atmosphere  with  to- 
bacco smoke  as  he  walked  along. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  in  a  quiet,  substan- 
tial-looking street,  stood  an  old  red-brick  house  with 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  399 

three  steps  before  the  door,  and  a  brass  plate  upon  it 
bearing^  m  fat  Roman  capitals,  the  words,  'Mr. 
Winkle.'  The  steps  were  very  white,  and  the  bricks 
were  very  red,  and  the  house  was  very  clean;  and  here 
stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer,  as  the  clock  struck  ten. 

A  smart  servant  girl  answered  the  knock,  and 
started  on  beholding  the  three  strangers. 

'Is  Mr.  Winkle  at  home,  my  dear?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'He  is  just  going  to  supper,  sir,'  replied  the  girl. 

'Give  him  that  card,  if  you  please,'  rejoined  Mr. 
Pickwick.  'Say  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  him  at  so  late 
an  hour;  but  I  am  anxious  to  see  him  to-night,  and 
have  only  just  arrived.' 

The  girl  looked  timidly  at  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who 
was  expressing  his  admiration  of  her  personal  charms 
by  a  variety  of  wonderful  grimaces;  and  casting  an 
eye  at  the  hats  and  great-coats  which  hung  in  the  pas- 
sage, called  another  girl  to  mind  the  door  while  she 
went  upstairs.  The  sentinel  was  speedily  relieved; 
for  the  girl  returned  immediately,  and  begging 
pardon  of  the  gentlemen  for  leaving  them  in  the 
street,  ushered  them  into  a  floor-clothed  back-parlour, 
half  office  and  half  dressing-room,  in  which  the  prin- 
cipal useful  and  ornamental  articles  of  furniture  were 
a  desk,  a  wash-hand  stand  and  shaving  glass,  a  boot- 
rack  and  boot- jack,  a  high  stool,  four  chairs,  a  table, 
and  an  old  eight-day  clock.  Over  the  mantel-piece 
were  the  sunken  doors  of  an  iron  safe,  while  a  couple 
of  hanging  shelves  for  books,  an  almanack,  and  sev- 
eral files  of  dusty  papers,  decorated  the  walls. 

'Very  sorry  to  leave  you  standing  at  the  door,  sir,' 
said  the  girl,  lighting 'a  lamp,  and  addressing  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  a  winning  smile,  'but  you  was  quite 
strangers  to  me ;  and  we  have  such  a  many  trampers 


400 

that  only  come  to  see  what  they  can  lay  their  hands  on, 
that  really — ' 

'There  is  not  the  least  occasion  for  any  apology,  my 
dear,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  good  humouredly. 

'Not  the  slightest,  my  love/  said  Bob  Sawyer,  play- 
fully stretching  forth  his  arms,  and  skipping  from 
side  to  side,  as  if  to  prevent  the  young  lady's  leaving 
the  room. 

The  young  lady  was  not  at  all  softened  by  these 
allurements,  for  she  at  once  expressed  her  opinion  that 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  an  'odous  creetur';  and,  on  his 
becoming  rather  more  pressing  in  his  attentions,  im- 
printed her  fair  fingers  upon  his  face,  and  bounced 
out  of  the  room  with  many  expressions  of  aversion 
and  contempt. 

Deprived  of  the  young  lady's  society,  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  proceeded  to  divert  himself  by  peeping  into 
the  desk,  looking  into  all  the  table-drawers,  feigning 
to  pick  the  lock  of  the  iron  safe,  turning  the  almanack 
with  its  face  to  the  wall,  trying  on  the  boots  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  senior,  over  his  own,  and  making  several  other 
humorous  experiments  upon  the  furniture,  all  of 
which  afforded  Mr.  Pickwick  unspeakable  horror  and 
agony,  and  yielded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  proportionate 
delight. 

At  length  the  door  opened,  and  a  little  old  gentle- 
man in  a  snuff-coloured  suit,  with  a  head  and  face  the 
precise  counterpart  of  those  belonging  to  Mr.  Winkle, 
junior,  excepting  that  he  was  rather  bald,  trotted  into 
the  room  with  Mr.  Pickwick's  card  in  one  hand,  and 
a  silver  candlestick  in  the  other. 

'Mr.  Pickwick,  sir,  how  do  you  do?'  said  Winkle 
the  elder,  putting  down  the  candlestick  and  proffering 
his  hand.  'Hope  I  see  you  well,  sir.  Glad  to  see  you. 
Be  seated,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg,  sir.  This  gentleman 
is — ' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  401 

'My  friend,  Mr.  Sawyer,'  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
'your  son's  friend.' 

'Oh,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  the  elder,  looking  rather 
grimly  at  Bob.  'I  hope  you  are  well,  sir.' 

'Right  as  a  trivet,  sir,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

'This  other  gentleman,'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  'is,  as 
you  will  see,  when  you  have  read  the  letter  witli  which 
I  am  entrusted,  a  very  near  relative,  or  I  should  rather 
say  a  very  particular  friend  of  your  son's.  His  name- 
is  Allen.' 

'That  gentleman?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  pointing 
with  the  card  towards  Ben  Allen,  who  had  fallen 
asleep  in  an  attitude  which  left  nothing  of  him  visible 
but  his  spine  and  his  coat  collar. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  replying  to  the 
question,  and  reciting  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen's  name 
and  honourable  distinctions  at  full  length,  when  tl  it- 
sprightly  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  a  view  of  rousing  \\ is 
friend  to  a  sense  of  his  situation,  inflicted  a  starli 
pinch  upon  the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm,  which  caused 
him  to  jump  up  with  a  shriek.     Suddenly  aware  that 
he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  Mr..  Ben  Allen 
advanced  and,  shaking  Mr.  Winkle  most  affection- 
ately by  both  hands  for  about  five  minutes,  murmured, 
in  some  half -intelligible  fragments  of  sentences,  t 
great  delight  he  felt  in  seeing  him,  and  a  hospitable 
inquiry  whether  he  felt  disposed  to  take  anything 
after  his  walk,  or  would  prefer  waiting   till  dinner 
time';  which  done,  he  sat  down  and  gazed  about 
with  a  petrified  stare,  as  if  he  had  not  the  remotest 
idea  where  he  was,  which  indeed  he  had  not. 

All  this  was  most  embarrassing  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
the  more  especiallv  as  Mr.  Winkle,  senior    evince 
palpTble  astonishment  at  the  eccentnc-not  to  say 
Straordinary-behaviour    of    his    ^    companion, 
To  bring  the  matter  to  an  issue  at  once,  he , 


402  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

from  his  pocket,  and  presenting  it  to  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior,  said — 

'This  letter,  sir,  is  from  your  son.  You  will  see,  by 
its  contents,  that  on  your  favourable  and  fatherly 
consideration  of  it,  depend  his  future  happiness  and 
welfare.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  giving  it  the  calmest 
and  coolest  perusal,  and  by  discussing  the  subject 
afterwards,  with  me,  in  the  tone  and  spirit  in  which 
alone  it  ought  to  be  discussed?  You  may  judge  of 
the  importance  of  your  decision  to  your  son,  and  his 
intense  anxiety  upon  the  subject,  by  my  waiting  upon 
you,  without  any  previous  warning,  at  so  late  an  hour ; 
and,'  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing  slightly  at  his  two 
companions,  'and  under  such  unfavourable  circum- 
stances.' 

With  this  prelude,  Mr.  Pickwick  placed  four  closely 
written  sides  of  extra  superfine  wire-wove  penitence  in 
the  hands  of  the  astounded  Mr.  Winkle,  senior.  Then 
reseating  himself  in  his  chair,  he  watched  his  looks 
and  manner:  anxiously,  it  is  true,  but  with  the  open 
front  of  a  gentleman  who  feels  he  has  taken  no  part 
which  he  need  excuse  or  palliate. 

The  old  wharfinger  turned  the  letter  over ;  looked  at 
the  front,  back,  and  sides;  made  a  microscopic  exam- 
ination of  the  fat  little  boy  on  the  seal ;  raised  his  eyes 
to  Mr.  Pickwick's  face;  and  then,  seating  himself  on 
the  high  stool,  and  drawing  the  lamp  closer  to  him, 
broke  the  wax,  unfolded  the  epistle,  and  lifting  it  to 
the  light,  he  prepared  to  read. 

Just  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  whose  wit 
had  lain  dormant  for  some  minutes,  placed  his  hands 
upon  his  knees,  and  made  a  face  after  the  portraits  of 
the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi,  as  clown.  It  so  happened  that 
Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  instead  of  being  deeply  engaged 
in  reading  the  letter,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  thought, 
chanced  to  be  looking  over  the  top  of  it  at  no  less  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  403 

person  than  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself;  rightly  con- 
jecturing that  the  face  aforesaid  was  made  in  ridicule 
and  derision  of  his  own  person,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Bob  with  such  expressive  sternness,  that  the  late  Mr. 
Grimaldi's  lineaments  gradually  resolved  themselves 
into  a  very  fine  expression  of  humility  and  confusion. 
'Did  you  speak,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 
after  an  awful  silence. 

'No,  sir,'  replied  Bob,  with  no  remains  of  the  clown 
about  him,  save  and  except  the  extreme  redness  of  his 
cheeks. 

'You  are  sure  you  did  not,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior. 

'Oh  dear,  yes,  sir,  quite,'  replied  Bob. 
'I  thought  you  did,  sir,'  rejoined  the  old  gentleman, 
with  indignant  emphasis.     'Perhaps  you  looked  at  me, 
sir?' 

'Oh,  no,  sir,  not  at  all,'  replied  Bob,  with  extreme 
civility. 

'I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior.  Having  frowned  upon  the  abashed  Bob  with 
great  magnificence,  the  old  gentleman  again  brought 
the  letter  to  the  light,  and  began  to  read  it  seriously. 
Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  him  intently  as  he  turned  from 
the  bottom  line  of  the  first  page  to  the  top  line  of 
the  second,  and  from  the  bottom  of  the  second  to  the 
top  of  the  third,  and  from  the  bottom  of  the  third  to 
the  top  of  the  fourth;  but  not  the  slightest  alteration 
of  countenance  afforded  a  clue  to  the  feelings  with 
which  he  received  the  announcement  of  his  son  s  mai 
riage,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  knew  was  in  the  very  i 

^He  read  thTletter  to  the  last  word;  folded  it  again 
with  all  the  carefulness  and  precision  of  a  man 
business;  and,  just  when  Mr  Pickwick  expected  some 
great  outbreak  of  feeling,  dipped  a  pen  in  the 


404  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

stand,  and  said  as  quietly  as  if  he  were  speaking  on 
the  most  ordinary  counting-house  topic — 

'What  is  Nathaniel's  address,  Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'The  George  and  Vulture,  at  present,'  replied  that 
gentleman. 

'George  and  Vulture.     Where  is  that?' 

'George  Yard,  Lombard  Street.' 

'In  the  City?' 

'Yes.' 

The  old  gentleman  methodically  indorsed  the  ad- 
dress on  the  back  of  the  letter ;  and  then,  placing  it  in 
the  desk,  which  he  locked,  said  as  he  got  off  the  stool 
and  put  the  bunch  of  keys  in  his  pocket— 

'I  suppose  there  is  nothing  else  which  need  detain 
us,  Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'Nothing  else,  my  dear  sir!'  observed  that  warm- 
hearted person  in  indignant  amazement.  'Nothing 
else!  Have  you  no  opinion  to  express  on  this  mo- 
mentous event  in  our  young  friend's  life?  No  assur- 
ance to  convey  to  him,  through  me,  of  the  continuance 
of  your  affection  and  protection?  Nothing  to  say 
which  will  cheer  and  sustain  him,  and  the  anxious  girl 
who  looks  to  him  for  comfort  and  support  ?  My  dear 
sir,  consider.' 

'I  will  consider,'  replied  the  old  gentleman.  'I  have 
nothing  to  say  just  now.  I  am  a  man  of  business, 
Mr.  Pickwick.  I  never  commit  myself  hastily  in  any 
affair,  and  from  what  I  see  of  this,  I  by  no  means  like 
the  appearance  of  it.  A  thousand  pounds  is  not 
much,  Mr.  Pickwick.' 

'You  're  very  right,  sir/  interposed  Ben  Allen,  just 
awake  enough  to  know  that  he  had  spent  his  thousand 
pounds  without  the  smallest  difficulty.  'You  're  an  in- 
telligent man.  Bob,  he  *s  a  very  knowing  fellow  this.' 

'I  am  very  happy  to  find  that  you  do  me  the  justice 
to  make  the  admission,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  senior, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  405 

looking  contemptuously  at  Ben  Allen,  who  was  shak- 
ing his  head  profoundly.  'The  fact  is,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
that  when  I  gave  my  son  a  roving  licence  for  a  yr.ir 
or  so,  to  see  something  of  men  and  manners  (which 
he  has  done  under  your  auspices),  so  that  he  might 
not  enter  into  life  a  mere  boarding-school  milksop. 
to  be  gulled  by  everybody,  I  never  bargained  for  this. 
He  knows  that,  very  well,  so  if  I  withdraw  my  coun- 
tenance from  him  on  this  account,  he  has  no  call  to 
be  surprised.  He  shall  hear  from  me,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Good  night,  sir.  Margaret,  open  the  door.' 

All  this  time,  Bob  Sawyer  had  been  nudging  M  r. 
Ben  Allen  to  say  something  on  the  right  side;  Ben 
accordingly  now  burst,  without  the  slightest  prelim- 
inary notice,  into  a  brief  but  impassioned  piece  of 
eloquence. 

'Sir,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  staring  at  the  old  gentle- 
man, out  of  a  pair  of  very  dim  and  languid  eyes,  and 
working  his  right  arm  vehemently  up  and  down,  'y°u 
— you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.' 

'As  the  lady's  brother,  of  course  you  are  an  excel 
lent  judge  of  the  question,'  retorted  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior.     'There;  that's  enough.     Pray  say  no  more, 
Mr.  Pickwick.     Good  night,  gentlemen!' 

With  these  words  the  old  gentleman  took  up  tin 
candlestick,  and  opening  the  room  door,  politely  mo- 
tioned towards  the  passage. 

'You  will  regret  this,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  set! 
his  teeth  close  together  to  keep  down  his  choler;  for 
he  felt  how  important  the  effect  might  prove 
young  friend. 

'I  am  at  present  of  a  different  opinion,  calmly  re- 
plied  Mr.  Winkle,  senior.     'Once  again,  ge 
I  wish  YOU  good  night.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked,  with  angry  strides,  into 
street.     Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  completely  quelled  by  the 


406  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

decision  of  the  old  gentleman's  manner,  took  the  same 
course.  Mr.  Ben  Allen's  hat  rolled  down  the  steps 
immediately  afterwards,  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen's  body 
followed  it  directly.  The  whole  party  went  silent 
and  supperless  to  bed;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  thought, 
just  before  he  fell  asleep,  that  if  he  had  known  Mr. 
Winkle,  senior,  had  been  quite  so  much  of  a  man  of 
business,  it  was  extremely  probable  he  might  never 
have  waited  upon  him,  on  such  an  errand. 


CHAPTER  LI 

IN  WHICH  MR.  PICKWICK  ENCOUNTERS  AN  OLD  AC- 
QUAINTANCE, TO  WHICH  FORTUNATE  CIRCUM- 
STANCE THE  READER  IS  MAINLY  INDEBTED  FOR 
MATTER  OF  THRILLING  INTEREST  HEREIN  SET 
DOWN,  CONCERNING  TWO  GREAT  PUBLIC  MEN  OF 
MIGHT  AND  POWER 

THE  morning  which  broke  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  sight, 
at  eight  o'clock,  was  not  at  all  calculated  to  elevate  his 
spirits,  or  to  lessen  the  depression  which  the  unlooked- 
for  result  of  his  embassy  inspired.  The  sky  was  dark 
and  gloomy,  the  air  was  damp  and  raw,  the  streets 
were  wet  and  sloppy.  The  smoke  hung  sluggishly 
above  the  chimney-tops  as  if  it  lacked  the  courage  to 
rise,  and  the  rain  came  slowly  and  doggedly  down,  as 
if  it  had  not  even  the  spirit  to  pour.  A  game-cock  in 
the  stable-yard,  deprived  of  every  spark  of  his  accus- 
tomed animation,  balanced  himself  dismally  on  one 
leg  in  a  corner ;  a  donkey,  moping  with  drooping  head  t 
under  the  narrow  roof  of  an  outhouse,  appeared  from 
his  meditative  and  miserable  countenance  to  be  con- 
templating suicide.  In  the  street,  umbrellas  were  the 
only  things  to  be  seen,  and  the  clicking  of  pattens  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  407 

splashing  of  rain-drops,  were  the  only  sounds  to  be 
heard. 

The  breakfast  was  interrupted  by  very  little  con- 
versation; even  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  felt  the  influence  of 
the  weather,  and  the  previous  day's  excitement.  In 
his  own  expressive  language  he  was  'floored/  So  wai 
Mr.  Ben  Allen.  So  was  Mr.  Pickwick. 

In  protracted  expectation  of  the  weather  clearing 
up,  the  last  evening  paper  from  London  was  read  and 
re-read  with  an  intensity  of  interest  only  known  in 
cases  of  extreme  destitution ;  every  inch  of  the  carpet 
was  walked  over,  with  similar  perseverance;  the  win- 
dows were  looked  out  of,  often  enough  to  justify  the 
imposition  of  an  additional  duty  upon  them;  all  kinds 
of  topics  of  conversation  were  started,  and  failed;  and 
at  length  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  noon  had  arrived,  with- 
out a  change  for  the  better,  rang  the  bell  resolutely 
and  ordered  out  the  chaise. 

Although  the  roads  were  miry,  and  the  drizzling 
rain  came  down  harder  than  it  had  done  yet,  and  al- 
though the  mud  and  wet  splashed  in  at  the  open  win- 
dows of  the  carriage  to  such  an  extent  that  the  dis- 
comfort was  almost  as  great  to  the  pair  of  insides  as 
to  the  pair  of  outsides,  still  there  was  something  in  the 
motion,  and  the  sense  of  being  up  and  doing,  which 
was  so  infinitely  superior  to  being  pent  in  a  dull  room, 
looking  at  the  dull  rain  dripping  into  a  dull  street, 
that  they  all  agreed,  on  starting,  that  the  change  was 
a  great  improvement,  and  wondered  how  they  could 
possibly  have  delayed  making  it,  as  long  as  they  had 

done. 

When  they  stopped  to  change  at  Coventry,  the 
steam  ascended  from  the  horses  in  such  clouds  as 
wholly  to  obscure  the  hostler,  whose  voice  was  how- 
ever heard  to  declare  from  the  mist,  that  he  expected 
the  first  Gold  Medal  from  the  Humane  Society  on 


408  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

their  next  distribution  of  rewards,  for  taking  the  post- 
boy's hat  off;  the  water  descending1  from  the  brim  of 
which,  the  invisible  gentleman  declared  must  inevita- 
bly have  drowned  him  (the  postboy),  but  for  his 
great  presence  of  mind  in  tearing  it  promptly  from 
his  head,  and  drying  the  gasping  man's  countenance 
with  a  wisp  of  straw. 

'This  is  pleasant,'  said  Bob  Sawyer,  turning  up  his 
coat  collar,  and  pulling  (the  shawl  over  his  mouth  to 
concentrate  the  fumes  of  a  glass  of  brandy  just 
swallowed. 

'Wery,'  replied  Sam,  composedly. 

'You  don't  seem  to  mind  it,'  observed  Bob. 

'Vy,  I  don't  exactly  see  no  good  my  mindin*  on  it 
'ud  do,  sir,'  replied  Sam. 

'That 's  an  unanswerable  reason,  anyhow,'  said  Bob. 

'Yes,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  'Wotever  is,  is 
right,  as  the  young  nobleman  sveetly  remarked  wen 
they  put  him  down  in  the  pension  list  'cos  his  mother's 
uncle's  vife's  grandfather  vunce  lit  the  king's  pipe 
vith  a  portable  tinder-box.' 

'Not  a  bad  notion  that,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
approvingly. 

'Just  wot  the  young  nobleman  said  ev'ry  quarter- 
day  arterwards  for  the  rest  of  his  life,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller. 

'Wos  you  ever  called  in,'  inquired  Sam,  glancing  at 
the  driver,  after  a  short  silence,  and  lowering  his 
voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper :  'wos  you  ever  called  in, 
ven  you  wos  'prentice  to  a  sawbones,  to  wisit  a  post- 
boy?' 

'I  don't  remember  that  I  ever  was,'  replied  Bob 
Sawyer. 

'You  never  see  a  postboy  in  that  'ere  hospital  as 
you  walked  (as  they  says  o'  the  ghosts),  did  you?' 
demanded  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  409 

'No,'  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  'I  don't  think  I  ever 
did.' 

'Never  know'd  a  churchyard  where  there  wos  a  post- 
boy's tombstone,  or  see  a  dead  postboy,  did  you?'  in- 
quired Sam,  pursuing  his  catechism. 

'No,'  rejoined  Bob,  'I  never  did.' 

'No!'  rejoined  Sam,  triumphantly.  'Nor  never 
vill ;  and  there  's  another  thing  that  no  man  never  see, 
and  that 's  a  dead  donkey.  No  man  never  see  a  dead 
donkey,  'cept  the  gen'l'm'n  in  the  black  silk  smalls  as 
know'd  the  young  'ooman  as  kep'  a  goat;  and  that 
wos  a  French  donkey,  so  wery  likely  he  warn't  wun 
o'  the  reg'lar  breed.' 

'Well,  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  the  postboys: 
asked  Bob  Sawyer. 

'This  here,'  replied  Sam.  'Without  goin'  so  far  as 
to  as-sert,  as  some  wery  sensible  people  do,  that  post- 
boys and  donkeys  is  both  immortal,  wot  I  say  is  tins: 
that  wenever  they  feels  theirselves  gettin' stiff  and  past 
their  work,  they  just  rides  off  together,  wun  postboy 
to  a  pair  in  the  usual  way;  wot  becomes  on  'em  nobody 
knows,  but  it 's  wery  probable  as  they  starts  avav  to 
take  their  pleasure  in  some  other  vorld,  for  their  a 
a  man  alive  as  ever  see,  either  a  donkey  or  a  postboy, 
a  takin'  his  pleasure  in  this!' 

Expatiating   upon   this   learned   and   remarkable 
theory,  and  citing  many  curious  statistical  and 
facts  in  its  support,  Sam  Weller  beguiled  the  time 
until  they  reached  Dunchurch,  where  a  dry  postb 
and  fresh  horses  were  procured;  the  next  stage 
Daventry,  and  the  next  Towcester ;  and  at  the  end  of 
each  stage  it  rained  harder  than  it  had  done  at 

3e?Tir!  ^remonstrated  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  in  at  the 
coach-window,  as  they  pulled  up  before  the  door  of 


410  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  Saracen's  Head,  Towcester,  'this  won't  do,  you 
know.' 

'Bless  me!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  just  awaking  from  a 
nap,  *I  'm  afraid  you  're  wet.' 

'Oh,  you  are,  are  you?'  returned  Bob.  'Yes,  I  am, 
a  little  that  way.  Uncomfortably  damp,  perhaps.' 

Bob  did  look  dampish,  inasmuch  as  the  rain  was 
streaming  from  his  neck,  elbows,  cuffs,  skirts,  and 
knees;  and  his  whole  apparel  shone  so  with  the  wet, 
that  it  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  full  suit  of 
prepared  oilskin. 

*  I  am  rather  wet,'  said  Bob,  giving  himself  a  shake, 
and  casting  a  little  hydraulic  shower  around,  like  a 
Newfoundland  dog  just  emerged  from  the  water. 

'I  think  it 's  quite  impossible  to  go  on  to-night,' 
interposed  Ben. 

'Out  of  the  question,  sir,'  remarked  Sam  Weller, 
coming  to  assist  in  the  conference ;  'it 's  a  cruelty  to 
animals,  sir,  to  ask  'em  to  do  it.  There  's  beds  here, 
sir,'  said  Sam,  addressing  his  master,  'everything  clean 
and  comfortable.  Wery  good  little  dinner,  sir,  they 
can  get  ready  in  half  an  hour — pair  of  fowls,  sir,  and 
a  weal  cutlet ;  French  beans,  'taturs,  tart,  and  tidiness. 
You  'd  better  stop  vere  you  are,  sir,  if  I  might  recom- 
mend. Take  adwice,  sir,  as  the  doctor  said.' 

The  host  of  the  Saracen's  Head  opportunely  ap- 
peared at  this  moment,  to  confirm  Mr.  Weller's  state- 
ment relative  to  the  accommodations  of  the  establish- 
ment, and  to  back  his  entreaties  with  a  variety  of 
dismal  conjectures  regarding  the  state  of  the  roads, 
the  doubt  of  fresh  horses  being  to  be  had  at  the  next 
stage,  the  dead  certainty  of  its  raining  all  night,  the 
equally  mortal  certainty  of  its  clearing  up  in  the 
morning,  and  other  topics  of  inducement  familiar  to 
innkeepers. 

'Well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'but  I  must  send  a  letter 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  411 

to  London  by  some  conveyance,  so  that  it  may  be 
delivered  the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning,  or  I  must 
go  forward  at  all  hazards.' 

The  landlord  smiled  his  delight.  Nothing  could  be 
easier  than  for  the  gentleman  to  enclose  a  letter  in  a 
sheet  of  brown  paper,  and  send  it  on,  either  by  the 
mail  or  the  night  coach  from  Birmingham.  If  the 
gentleman  were  particularly  anxious  to  have  it  left 
as  soon  as  possible,  he  might  write  outside,  'To  be 
delivered  immediately,'  which  was  sure  to  be  attended 
to;  or  'Pay  the  bearer  half-a-crown  extra  for  instant 
delivery,'  which  was  surer  still. 

'Very  well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'then  we  will  stop 
here.' 

'Lights  in  the  Sun,  John;  make  up  the  fire;  the 
gentleman  are  wet!'  cried  the  landlord.  'This  way, 
gentlemen ;  don't  trouble  yourselves  about  the  postboy 
now,  sir.  I  '11  send  him  to  you  when  you  ring  for 
him,  sir.  Now,  John,  the  candles.' 

The  candles  were  brought,  the  fire  was  stirred  up, 
and  a  fresh  log  of  wood  thrown  on.  In  ten  minutes' 
time,  a  waitei  was  laying  the  cloth  for  dinner,  the  cur- 
tains were  drawn,  the  fire  blazing  brightly,  and  every- 
thing looked  (as  everything  always  does,  in  all  decent 
English  inns)  as  if  the  travellers  had  been  expected, 
and  their  comforts  prepared,  for  days  beforehand. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  at  a  side  table,  and  hastily 
indited  a  note  to  Mr.  Winkle,  merely  informing  him 
that  he  was  detained  by  stress  of  weather,  but  would 
certainly  be  in  London  next  day;  until  when  he  . 
f  erred  any  account  of  his  proceedings.     This  note-  wa 
hastily  made  into  a  parcel,  and  despatched  to  t 
per  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

Sam  left  it  with  the  landlady,  and  was  returning  t 
pull  his  master's  boots  off,  after  drying  himself  by 
the  kitchen  fire,  when,  glancing  casually  throi 


412  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

half-opened  door,  he  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of  a 
gentleman  with  a  sandy  head  who  had  a  large  bundle 
of  newspapers  lying  on  the  table  before  him,  and  was 
perusing  the  leading  article  of  one  with  a  settled  sneer 
which  curled  up  his  nose  and  all  his  other  features  into 
a  majestic  expression  of  haughty  contempt. 

'Hallo!'  said  Sam,  'I  ought  to  know  that  'ere  head 
and  them  features;  the  eye-glass,  too,  and  the  broad- 
brimmed  tile!  Eatansvill  to  vit,  or  I  'm  a  Roman.' 

Sam  was  taken  with  a  troublesome  cough,  at  once, 
for  the  purpose  of  attracting  the  gentleman's  atten- 
tion; the  gentleman  starting  at  the  sound,  raised  his 
head  and  his  eye-glass,  and  disclosed  to  view  the 
profound  and  thoughtful  features  of  Mr.  Pott,  of  the 
Eatanswill  Gazette. 

'Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir/  said  Sam,  advancing 
with  a  bow,  'my  master  's  here,  Mr.  Pott.' 

'Hush,  hush!'  cried  Pott,  drawing  Sam  into  the 
room,  and  closing  the  door,  with  a  countenance  of 
mysterious  dread  and  apprehension. 

'Wot 's  the  matter,  sir?'  inquired  Sam,  looking 
vacantly  about  him.  « 

'Not  a  whisper  of  my  name,'  replied  Pott ;  'this  is  a 
buff  neighbourhood.  If  the  excited  and  irritable  pop- 
ulace knew  I  was  here,  I  should  be  torn  to  pieces.' 

'No!     Vould  you,  sir?'  inquired  Sam. 

'I  should  be  the  victim  of  their  fury,'  replied  Pott. 
'Now,  young  man,  what  of  your  master?' 

'He  's  a  stopping  here  to-night  on  his  vay  to  town, 
vith  a  couple  of  friends,'  replied  Sam. 

'Is  Mr.  Winkle  one  of  them?'  inquired  Pott,  with  a 
slight  frown. 

'No,  sir.  Mr.  Vinkle  stops  at  home  now,'  rejoined 
Sam.  'He  's  married.5 

d!'  exclaimed  Pott,  with  frightful  vehe- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  413 

mence.     He  stopped,  smiled  darkly,  and  added,  in  a 
low,  vindictive  tone,  'It  serves  him  right  !' 

Having  given  vent  to  this  cruel  ebullition  of  deadly 
malice  and  cold-blooded  triumph  over  a  fallen  enemy, 
Mr.  Pott  inquired  whether  Mr.  Pickwick's  friends 
were  'blue.'  Receiving  a  most  satisfactory  answer  in 
the  affirmative  from  Sam,  who  knew  as  much  about 
the  matter  as  Pott  himself,  he  consented  to  accompany 
him  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  room,  where  a  hearty  welcome 
awraited  him.  An  agreement  to  club  dinners  together 
was  at  once  made  and  ratified. 

'And  how  are  matters  going  on  in  Eatanswill?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Pott  had  taken  a  seat  near 
the  fire,  and  the  whole  party  had  got  their  wet  boots 
off,  and  dry  slippers  on.  'Is  the  Independent  still  in 
being?' 

'The  Independent,  sir,'  replied  Pott,  'is  still  drag- 
ging on  a  wretched  and  lingering  career.  Abhorred 
and  despised  by  even  the  few  who  are  cognisant  of  its 
miserable  and  disgraceful  existence;  stifled  by  the 
very  filth  it  so  profusely  scatters;  rendered  deaf  and 
blind  by  the  exhalations  of  its  own  slime;  the  obscene 
journal,  happily  unconscious  of  its  degraded  state,  is 
rapidly  sinking  beneath  that  treacherous  mud  which, 
while  it  seems  to  give  it  a  firm  standing  with  the  low 
and  debased  classes  of  society,  is  nevertheless,  rising 
above  its  detested  head,  and  will  speedily  engulf 


T  OT* 

Having  delivered  this  manifesto  (which  formed  a 
portion  of  his  last  week's  leader)  with  vehement  articu- 
lation, the  editor  paused  to  take  breath,  and  lookec 
majestically  at  Bob  Sawyer. 

'You  are  a  young  man,  sir,'  said  Pott. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  nodded. 

<So  are  you,  sir/  said  Pott,  addressing  Mr.  ] 

Allen. 


414  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Ben  admitted  the  soft  impeachment. 

'And  are  both  deeply  imbued  with  those  blue  prin- 
ciples, which,  so  long  as  I  live,  I  have  pledged  myself 
to  the  people  of  these  kingdoms  to  support  and  to 
maintain?'  suggested  Pott. 

'Why,  I  don't  exactly  know  about  that,'  replied 
Bob  Sawyer.  'I  am — ' 

'Not  buff,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  interrupted  Pott,  draw- 
ing back  his  chair,  'your  friend  is  not  buff,  sir?' 

'No,  no,'  rejoined  Bob,  'I  'm  a  kind  of  plaid  at 
present;  a  compound  of  all  sorts  of  colours.' 

'A  waverer,'  said  Pott,  solemnly,  'a  waverer.  I 
should  like  to  show  you  a  series  of  eight  articles,  sir, 
that  have  appeared  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  I 
think  I  may  venture  to  say  that  you  would  not  be  long 
in  establishing  your  opinions  on  a  firm  and  solid  blue 
basis,  sir.' 

'I  dare  say  I  should  turn  very  blue,  long  before  I 
got  to  the  end  of  them,'  responded  Bob. 

Mr.  Pott  looked  dubiously  at  Bob  Sawyer  for  some 
seconds,  and,  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said— 

'You  have  seen  the  literary  articles  which  have  ap- 
peared at  intervals  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  in  the 
course  of  the  last  three  months,  and  which  have  excited 
such  general — I  may  say  such,  universal — attention 
and  admiration?' 

'Why,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  slightly  embarrassed 
by  the  question,  'the  fact  is,  I  have  been  so  much  en- 
gaged in  other  ways,  that  I  really  have  not  had  an 
opportunity  of  perusing  them.' 

'You  should  do  so,  sir,'  said  Pott,  with  a  severe 
countenance. 

'I  will,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'They  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  copious  review  of 
a  work  on  Chinese  metaphysics,  sir,'  said  Pott. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  u  > 


ho'°r'  °bSerVed  Mr'  Pickwick,  'from  your   pen.    I 

'From  the  pen  of  my  critic,  sir,'  rejoined  Pott  with 
dignity. 


^  abstruse  subject,  I  should  conceive,'  said  Mr 
Pickwick. 

'Very,  sir,'  responded  Pott,  looking  intensely  sage. 
'He  crammed  for  it,  to  use  a  technical  but  expressive 
term;  he  read  up  for  the  subject,  at  my  desire,  in  tin- 
Encyclopedia  Britannica/ 

'Indeed!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'I  was  not  aware  that 
that  valuable  work  contained  any  information  respect- 
ing Chinese  metaphysics.' 

'He  read,  sir,'  rejoined  Pott,  laying  his  hand  on  M  r. 
Pickwick's  knee,  and  looking  round  with  a  smile  of 
intellectual  superiority,  'he  read  for  metaphysics  under 
the  letter  M,  and  for  China  under  the  letter  C,  and 
combined  his  information,  sir?' 

Mr.  Pott's  features  assumed  so  much  additional 
grandeur  at  the  recollection  of  the  power  and  re- 
search displayed  in  the  learned  effusions  in  question, 
that  some  minutes  elapsed  before  Mr.  Pickwick  felt 
emboldened  to  renew  the  conversation;  at  length,  as 
the  editor's  countenance  gradually  relaxed  into  its  cus- 
tomary expression  of  moral  supremacy,  he  ventured 
to  resume  the  discourse  by  asking— 

'Is  it  fair  to  inquire  what  great  object  has  brought 
you  so  far  from  home  ?' 

'That  object  which  actuates  and  animates  me  in  all 
my  gigantic  labours,  sir,'  replied  Pott,  with  a  calm 
smile;  'my  country's  good.' 

'I  suppose  it  was  some  public  mission/  observed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Yes,  sir,'  resumed  Pott,  'it  is.'  Here,  bending 
towards  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  whispered  in  a  deep  hollow 


416  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

voice, 'A  buff  ball,  sir,  will  take  place  in  Birmingham 
to-morrow  evening1.' 

'God  bless  me !'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes,  sir,  and  supper,'  added  Pott. 

'You  don't  say  so!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Pott  nodded  portentously. 

Now,  although  Mr.  Pickwick  feigned  to  stand 
aghast  at  this  disclosure,  he  was  so  little  versed  in 
local  politics  that  he  was  unable  to  form  an  adequate 
comprehension  of  the  importance  of  the  dire  conspir- 
acy it  referred  to;  observing  which,  Mr.  Pott,  draw- 
ing forth  the  last  number  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette, 
and  referring  to  the  same,  delivered  himself  of  the 
following  paragraph  :— 

'HOLE-AND-CORNER  BUFFERY 

'A  reptile  contemporaiy  has  recently  sweltered 
forth  his  black  venom  in  the  vain  and  hopeless  attempt 
of  sullying  the  fair  name  of  our  distinguished  and 
excellent  representative,  the  Honourable  Mr.  Slumkey 
— that  Slumkey  whom  we,  long  before  he  gained  his 
present  noble  and  exalted  position,  predicted  would 
one  day  be,  as  he  now  is,  at  once  his  country's  bright- 
est honour,  and  her  proudest  boast:  alike  her  bold 
defender  and  her  honest  pride — our  reptile  contem- 
porary, I  say,  has  made  himself  merry,  at  the  expense 
of  a  superbly  embossed  plated  coal-scuttle,  which  has 
been  presented  to  that  glorious  man  by  his  enraptured 
constituents,  and  towards  the  purchase  of  which,  the 
nameless  wretch  insinuates,  the  Honourable  Mr. 
Slumkey  himself  contributed,  through  a  confidential 
friend  of  his  butler's,  more  than  three-fourths  of  the  ' 
whole  sum  subscribed.  Why,  does  not  the  crawling 
creature  see,  that  even  if  this  be  the  fact,  the  Honoura- 
ble Mr.  Slumkey  only  appears  in  a  still  mort  amiable 
and  radiant  light  than  before,  if  that  be  possible? 


THE    RIVAL   EDITORS. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  417 

Does  not  even  his  obtuseness  perceive  that  this  amiable 
and  touching-  desire  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  the  con- 
stituent body,  must  for  ever  endear  him  to  the  hearts 
and  souls  of  such  of  his  fellow-townsmen  as  are  not 
worse  than  swine;  or,  in  other  words,  who  are  not  a? 
debased  as  our  contemporary  himself?  But  such  is 
the  wretched  trickery  of  hole-and-corner  Buffery! 
These  are  not  its  only  artifices.  Treason  is  abroad. 
We  boldly  state,  now  that  we  are  goaded  to  the  dis- 
closure, and  we  throw  ourselves  on  the  country  and  its 
constables  for  protection — we  boldly  state  that  secret 
preparations  are  at  this  moment  in  progress  for  a  Buff 
ball;  which  is  to  be  held  in  a  Buff  town,  in  the  very 
heart  and  centre  of  a  Buff  population ;  which  is  to  be 
conducted  by  a  Buff  master  of  the  ceremonies ;  which 
is  to  be  attended  by  four  ultra  Buff  members  of  Parli- 
ament, and  the  admission  to  which,  is  to  be  by  Buff 
tickets!  Does  our  fiendish  contemporary  wince? 
Let  him  writhe,  in  impotent  malice,  as  we  pen  the 
words,  WE  WILL  BE  THERE/ 

'There,  sir,'  said  Pott,  folding  up  the  paper  quite 
exhausted,  'that  is  the  state  of  the  case !' 

The  landlord  and  waiter  entering  at  the  moment 
with  dinner,  caused  Mr.  Pott  to  lay  his  finger  on  his 
lips,  in  token  that  he  considered  his  life  in  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's hands,  and  depended  on  his  secrecy.  Messrs. 
Bob  Sawyer  and  Benjamin  Allen,  who  had  irrever- 
ently fallen  asleep  during  the  reading  of  the  quotation 
from  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  the  discussion  which 
followed  it,  were  roused  by  the  mere  whispering  of  the 
talismanic  word  'Dinner'  in  their  ears;  and  to  dinner 
they  went  with  good  digestion  waiting  on  appetite, 
and  health  on  both,  and  a  waiter  on  all  three. 

In  the  course  of  the  dinner  and  the  sitting  which 
succeeded  it,  Mr.  Pott  descending,  for  a  few  mo- 


418  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ments,  to  domestic  topics,  informed  Mr.  Pickwicl 
that  the  air  of  Eatanswill  not  agreeing  with  his 
lady,  she  was  then  engaged  in  making  a  tour  of  differ- 
ent fashionable  watering-places  with  a  view  to  the  re- 
covery of  her  wonted  health  and  spirits;  this  was  a 
delicate  veiling  of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Pott,  acting  upon 
her  often  repeated  threat  of  separation,  had,  in  virtue 
of  an  arrangement  negotiated  by  her  brother,  the 
JLieutenant,  and  concluded  by  Mr.  Pott,  permanently 
retired  with  the  faithful  body-guard  upon  one  moiety 
or  half -part  of  the  annual  income  and  profits  arising 
from  the  editorship  and  sale  of  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette. 

While  the  great  Mr.  Pott  was  dwelling  upon  this 
and  other  matters,  enlivening  the  conversation  from 
time  to  time  with  various  extracts  from  his  own  lucu- 
brations, a  stern  stranger,  calling  from  the  window  of 
a  stage-coach,  outward  bound,  which  halted  at  the  inn 
to  deliver  packages,  requested  to  know,  whether,  if  he 
stopped  short  on  his  journey  and  remained  there  for 
the  night,  he  could  be  furnished  with  the  necessary 
accommodation  of  a  bed  and  bedstead. 

'Certainly,  sir,'  replied  the  landlord. 

'I  can,  can  I?'  inquired  the  stranger,  who  seemed 
habitually  suspicious  in  look  and  manner. 

'No  doubt  of  it,  sir,'  replied  the  landlord. 

'Good,'  said  the  stranger.  'Coachman,  I  get  down 
here.  Guard,  my  carpet-bag!' 

Bidding  the  other  passengers  good  night,  in  a  rather 
snappish  manner,  the  stranger  alighted.  He  was  a 
shortish  gentleman,  with  very  stiff  black  hair  cut  in 
the  porcupine  or  blacking-brush  style,  and  standing 
stiff  and  straight  all  over  his  head;  his  aspect  was 
pompous  and  threatening;  his  manner  was  peremp- 
tory; his  eyes  were  sharp  and  restless;  and  his  whole 
bearing  bespoke  a  feeling  of  great  confidence  in  him- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  419 

self,  and  a  consciousness  of  immeasurable  superiority 
over  all  other  people. 

This  gentleman  was  shown  into  the  room  originally 
assigned  to  the  patriotic  Mr.  Pott;  and  the  waiter 
remarked,  in  dumb  astonishment  at  the  singular  coin- 
cidence, that  he  had  no  sooner  lighted  the  candles  than 
the  gentleman,  diving  into  his  hat,  drew  forth  a  news- 
paper, and  began  to  read  it  with  the  very  same  expres- 
sion of  indignant  scorn,  which,  upon  the  majestic  fea- 
tures of  Pott,  had  paralysed  his  energies  an  hour 
before.  The  man  observed  too,  that  whereas  Mr. 
Pott's  scorn  had  been  roused  by  a  newspaper  headed 
the  Eatanswill  Independent,  this  gentleman's  wither- 
ing contempt  was  awakened  by  a  newspaper  entitled 
The  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

'Send  the  landlord,'  said  the  stranger. 

'Yes,  sir,'  rejoined  the  waiter. 

The  landlord  was  sent,  and  came. 

'Are  you  the  landlord  ?'  inquired  the  gentleman. 

'I  am,  sir,'  replied  the  landlord. 

'Do  you  know  me  ?'  demanded  the  gentleman. 

'I  have  not  that  pleasure,  sir,'  rejoined  the  landlord 

'My  name  is  Shirk,'  said  the  gentleman. 

The  landlord  slightly  inclined  his  head. 

'Slurk,  sir,'  repeated  the  gentleman,  haughtily. 
'Do  you  know  me  now,  man?' 

The  landlord  scratched  his  head,  looked  at  the  ceil- 
ing, and  at  the  stranger,  and  smiled  feebly. 

'Do  you  know  me,  man?'  inquired  the  stranger, 
angrily. 

The  landlord  made  a  strong  effort,  and  at  length 
replied,  'Well,  sir,  I  do  not  know  you.' 

'Great  Heaven!'  said  the  stranger,  dashing  his 
clenched  fist  upon  the  table.  'And  this  is  popularity !' 

The  landlord  took  a  step  or  two  towards  the  door; 
the  stranger  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him,  resumed. 


420  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'This,'  said  the  stranger,  'this  is  the  gratitude  for 
years  of  labour  and  study  in  behalf  of  the  masses.  I 
alight  wet  and  weary;  no  enthusiastic  crowds  press 
forward  to  greet  their  champion ;  the  church-bells  are 
silent;  the  very  name  elicits  no  responsive  feeling  in 
their  torpid  bosoms.  It  is  enough,'  said  the  agitated 
Mr.  Slurk,  pacing  to  and  fro,  'to  curdle  the  ink  in 
one's  pen,  and  induce  one  to  abandon  their  cause  for 
ever.' 

'Did  you  say  brandy-and-water,  sir?'  said  the  land- 
lord, venturing  a  hint. 

'Rum,'  said  Mr.  Slurk,  turning  fiercely  upon  him. 
'Have  you  got  a  fire  anywhere  ?' 

'We  can  light  one  directly,  sir,'  said  the  landlord. 

'Which  will  throw  out  no  heat  until  it  is  bed-time,' 
interrupted  Mr.  Slurk.  'Is  there  anybody  in  the 
kitchen?' 

Not  a  soul.  There  was  a  beautiful  fire.  Every- 
body had  gone,  and  the  house  door  was  closed  for  the 
night. 

'I  will  drink  my  rum-and-water,'  said  Mr.  Slurk, 
'by  the  kitchen  fire.'  So,  gathering  up  his  hat  and 
newspaper,  he  stalked  solemnly  behind  the  landlord  to 
that  humble  apartment,  and  throwing  himself  on  a 
settle  by  the  fire-side,  resumed  his  countenance  of 
scorn,  and  began  to  read  and  drink  in  silent  dignity. 

Now,  some  demon  of  discord,  flying  over  the  Sara- 
cen's Head  at  that  moment,  on  casting  down  his  eyes 
in  mere  idle  curiosity,  happened  to  behold  Slurk  es- 
tablished comfortably  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  Pott 
slightly  elevated  with  wine  in  another  room;  upon 
which  the  malicious  demon,  darting  down  into  the. 
last-mentioned  apartment  with  inconceivable  rapidity, 
passed  at  once  into  the  head  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and 
prompted  him  for  his  (the  demon's)  own  evil  pur- 
poses to  speak  as  follows :— 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  421 

"I  say,  we  Ve  let  the  fire  out.  It 's  uncommonly 
cold  after  the  rain,  isn't  it?' 

'It  really  is,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  shivering. 

'It  wouldn't  be  a  bad  notion  to  have  a  cigar  by 
the  kitchen  fire,  would  it?'  said  Bob  Sawyer,  still 
prompted  by  the  demon  aforesaid. 

'It  would  be  particularly  comfortable,  I  think,'  re- 
plied Mr.  Pickwick.  'Mr.  Pott,  what  do  you  say?' 

Mr.  Pott  yielded  a  ready  assent ;  and  all  four  trav- 
ellers, each  with  his  glass  in  his  hand,  at  once  betook 
themselves  to  the  kitchen,  with  Sam  Weller  heading 
the  procession  to  show  them  the  way. 

The  stranger  was  still  reading;  he  looked  up  and 
started.  Mr.  Pott  started. 

'What 's  the  matter?'  whispered  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'That  reptile!'  replied  Pott. 

'What  reptile?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about 
him  for  fear  he  should  tread  on  some  overgrown 
black  beetle,  or  dropsical  spider. 

'That  reptile,'  whispered  Pott,  catching  Mr.  Pick- 
wick by  the  arm,  and  pointing  towards  the  stranger. 
'That  reptile  Slurk,  of  the  Independent!' 

'Perhaps  we  had  better  retire,'  whispered  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Never,  sir,'  rejoined  Pott,  pot-valiant  in  a  double 
sense,  'never.'  With  these  words,  Mr.  Pott  took  up 
his  position  on  an  opposite  settle,  and  selecting  one 
from  a  bundle  of  newspapers,  began  to  read  against 
his  enemy. 

Mr.  Pott,  of  course,  read  the  Independent,  and  Mr, 
Slurk,  of  course,  read  the  Gazette;  and  each  gentle- 
man audibly  expressed  his  contempt  of  the  other's 
compositions  by  bitter  laughs  and  sarcastic  sniffs; 
whence  they  proceeded  to  more  open  expressions  of 
opinion,  such  as  'absurd,'  'wretched,'  'atrocity,'  'hum- 


422  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

bug,'  'knavery,'  'dirt,'  'filth,'  'slime,'  'ditch-water,' 
and  other  critical  remarks  of  the  like  nature. 

Both  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  had  be- 
held these  symptoms  of  rivalry  and  hatred,  with  a  de- 
gree of  delight  which  imparted  great  additional  relish 
to  the  cigars  at  which  they  were  puffing  most  vigor- 
ously. The  moment  they  began  to  flag,  the  mischiev- 
ous Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  addressing  Slurk  with  great 
politeness,  said — 

'Will  you  allow  me  to  look  at  your  paper,  sir,  when 
you  have  quite  done  with  it !' 

'You  will  find  very  little  to  repay  you  for  your 
trouble  in  this  contemptible  thing,  sir,'  replied  Slurk, 
bestowing  a  Satanic  frown  on  Pott. 

'You  shall  have  this  presently,'  said  Pott,  looking 
up,  pale  with  rage,  and  quivering  in  his  speech,  from 
the  same  cause.  'Ha!  ha!  you  will  be  amused  with 
this  fellow's  audacity.' 

Terrific  emphasis  was  laid  upon  this  'thing'  and 
'fellow' ;  and  the  faces  of  both  editors  began  to  glow 
with  defiance. 

'The  ribaldry  of  this  miserable  man  is  despicably 
disgusting,'  said  Pott,  pretending  to  address  Bob 
Sawyer,  and  scowling  upon  Slurk. 

Here,  Mr.  Slurk  laughed  very  heartily,  and  folding 
up  the  paper  so  as  to  get  at  a  fresh  column  conven- 
iently, said,  that  the  blockhead  really  amused  him. 

'What  an  impudent  blunderer  this  fellow  is,'  said 
Pott,  turning  from  pink  to  crimson. 

'Did  you  ever  read  any  of  this  man's  foolery,  sir?' 
inquired  Slurk  of  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Never,'  replied  Bob;  'is  it  very  bad?'  . 

'Oh,  shocking!  shocking!'  rejoined  Slurk. 

'Really !  'Dear  me,  this  is  too  atrocious !'  exclaimed 
Pott,  at  this  juncture,  still  feigning  to  be  absorbed  in 
his  reading. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  423 

'If  you  can  wade  through  a  few  sentences  of  malice, 
meanness,  falsehood,  perjury,  treachery,  and  cant,' 
said  Slurk,  handing  the  paper  to  Bob,  'you  will,  per- 
haps, be  somewhat  repaid  by  a  laugh  at  the  style  of 
this  ungrammatical  twaddler.' 

'What 's  that  you  said,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Pott, 
looking  up,  trembling  all  over  with  passion. 

'What 's  that  to  you,  sir?'  replied  Slurk. 

'Ungrammatical  twaddler,  was  it,  sir?'  said  Pott. 

'Yes,  sir,  it  was,'  replied  Slurk;  'and  blue  bore,  sir, 
if  you  like  that  better ;  ha!  ha !' 

Mr.  Pott  retorted  not  a  word  to  this  jocose  insult, 
but  deliberately  folded  up  his  copy  of  the  Indepen- 
dent, flattened  it  carefully  down,  crushed  it  beneath 
his  foot,  spat  upon  it  with  great  ceremony,  and  flung 
it  into  the  fire. 

'There,  sir,'  said  Pott,  retreating  from  the  stove, 
'and  that 's  the  way  I  would  serve  the  viper  who  pro- 
duces it,  if  I  were  not,  fortunately  for  him,  restrained 
by  the  laws  of  my  country.' 

'Serve  him  so,  sir!'  cried  Slurk,  starting  up. 
'Those  laws  shall  never  be  appealed  to  by  him,  sir,  in 
such  a  case.  Serve  him  so,  sir!' 

'Hear!  hear!'  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

'Nothing  can  be  fairer,'  observed  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 

'Serve  him  so,  sir!'  reiterated  Slurk,  in  a  loud  voice. 

Mr.  Pott  darted  a  look  of  contempt,  which  might 
have  withered  an  anchor. 

'Serve  him  so,  sir!'  reiterated  Slurk,  in  a  louder 
voice  than  before. 

'I  will  not,  sir,'  rejoined  Pott. 

'Oh,  you  won't,  won't  you,  sir?'  said  Mr.  Slurk,  in 
a  taunting  manner;  'you  hear  this,  gentlemen!  He 
won't ;  not  that  he 's  afraid ;  oh,  no !  he  wont. 
Ha!  ha!' 

'I  consider  you,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Pott,  moved  by  this 


424  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

sarcasm,  'I  consider  you  a  viper.  I  look  upon  you, 
sir,  as  a  man  who  has  placed  himself  beyond  the  pale 
of  society,  by  his  most  audacious,  disgraceful,  and 
abominable  public  conduct.  I  view  you,  sir,  person- 
ally and  politically,  in  no  other  light  than  as  a  most 
unparalleled  and  unmitigated  viper.' 

The  indignant  Independent  did  not  wrait  to  hear  the 
end  of  this  personal  denunciation;  for,  catching  up 
his  carpet-bag,  which  was  well  stuffed  with  movables, 
he  swung  it  in  the  air  as  Pott  turned  away,  and,  letting 
it  fall  with  a  circular  sweep  on  his  head,  just  at  that 
particular  angle  of  the  bag  where  a  good  thick  hair 
brush  happened  to  be  packed,  caused  a  sharp  crash 
to  be  heard  throughout  the  kitchen,  and  brought  him 
at  once  to  the  ground. 

'Gentlemen,'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Pott  started 
up  and  seized  the  fire-shovel,  'gentlemen!  Consider, 
for  Heaven's  sake — help — Sam — here — pray,  gentle- 
men— interfere,  somebody.' 

Uttering  these  incoherent  exclamations,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick rushed  between  the  infuriated  combatants  just 
in  time  to  receive  the  carpet-bag  on  one  side  of  his 
body,  and  the  fire-shovel  on  the  other.  Whether  the 
representatives  of  the  public  feeling  of  Eatanswill 
were  blinded  by  animosity,  or  (being  both  acute  rea- 
soners)  saw  the  advantage  of  having  a  third  party 
between  them  to  bear  all  the  blows,  certain  it  is  that 
they  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
but  defying  each  other  with  great  spirit,  plied  the 
carpet-bag  and  the  fire-shovel  most  fearlessly.  Mr. 
Pickwick  would  unquestionably  have  suffered 
severely  for  his  humane  interference,  if  Mr.  Weller, 
attracted  by  his  master's  cries,  had  not  rushed  in  at  the 
moment,  and,  snatching  up  a  meal-sack,  effectually 
stopped  the  conflict  by  drawing  it  over  the  head  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  425 

shoulders  of  the  mighty  Pott,  and  clasping  him  tight 
round  the  shoulders. 

'Take  avay  that  'ere  bag  from  the  t'  other  madman,' 
said  Sam  to  Ben  Allen  and  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had 
done  nothing  but  dodge  round  the  group,  each  with 
a  tortoise-shell  lancet  in  his  hand,  ready  to  bleed  the 
first  man  stunned.  'Give  it  up,  you  wretched  little 
creetur,  or  I  '11  smother  you  in  it.' 

Awed  by  these  threats,  and  quite  out  of  breath,  the 
Independent  suffered  himself  to  be  disarmed;  and 
Mr.  Weller,  removing  the  extinguisher  from  Pott,  set 
him  free  with  a  caution. 

'You  take  yourselves  off  to  bed  quietly,'  said  Sam, 
'or  I  '11  put  you  both  in  it,  and  let  you  fight  it  out  vith 
the  mouth  tied,  as  I  vould  a  dozen  sich,  if  they  played 
these  games.  And  you  have  the  goodness  to  come 
this  here  vay,  sir,  if  you  please.' 

Thus  addressing  his  master,  Sam  took  him  by  the 
arm,  and  led  him  off,  while  the  rival  editors  were 
severally  removed  to  their  beds  by  the  landlord,  under 
the  inspection  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen;  breathing,  as  they  went  away,  many  sangui- 
nary threats,  and  making  vague  appointments  for 
mortal  combat  next  day.  When  they  came  to  think  it 
over,  however,  it  occurred  to  them  that  they  could  do  it 
much  better  in  print,  so  they  recommenced  deadly 
hostilities  without  delay ;  and  all  Eatanswill  rung  with 
their  boldness — on  paper. 

They  had  taken  themselves  off  in  separate  coaches, 
early  next  morning,  before  the  other  travellers  were 
stirring;  and  the  weather  having  now  cleared  up,  the 
chaise  companions  once  more  turned  their  faces  to 
London. 


426  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  LII 

INVOLVING  A  SERIOUS  CHANGE  IN  THE  WELLER  FAMILY 
AND  THE  UNTIMELY  DOWNFALL  OF  THE  RED-NOSED 
MR.  STIGGINS 

CONSIDERING  it  a  matter  of  delicacy  to  abstain  from 
introducing  either  Bob  Sawyer  or  Ben  Allen  to  the 
young  couple,  until  they  were  fully  prepared  to  expect 
them,  and  wishing  to  spare  Arabella's  feelings  as 
much  as  possible,  Mr.  Pickwick  proposed  that  he  and 
Sam  should  alight  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  George 
and  Vulture,  and  that  the  two  young  men  should  for 
the  present  take  up  their  quarters  elsewhere.  To 
this,  they  very  readily  agreed,  and  the  proposition  was 
accordingly  acted  upon;  Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  betaking  themselves  to  a  sequestered  pot- 
shop  on  the  remotest  confines  of  the  Borough,  behind 
the  bar-door  of  which  their  names  had  in  other  days 
very  often  appeared,  at  the  head  of  long  and  complex 
calculations  worked  in  white  chalk. 

'Dear  me,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  the  pretty  housemaid, 
meeting  Sam  at  the  door. 

'Dear  me  I  vish  it  vos,  my  dear,'  replied  Sam,  drop- 
ping behind,  to  let  his  master  get  out  of  hearing. 
'Wot  a  sweet-lookin'  creetur  you  are,  Mary !' 

'Lor,  Mr.  Weller,  what  nonsense  you  do  talk!'  said 
Mary.  'Oh !  don%  Mr.  Weller.' 

'Don't  what,  my  dear?'  said  Sam. 

'Why,  that,'  replied  the  pretty  housemaid.  'Lor, 
do  get  along  with  you.'  Thus  admonishing  him,  the 
pretty  housemaid  pushed  Sam  against  the  wall,  de- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  427 

claring  that  he  had  tumbled  her  cap,  and  put  her  hair 
quite  out  of  curl. 

'And  prevented  what  I  was  going  to  say,  besides,' 
added  Mary.  'There  's  a  letter  been  waiting  here  for 
you  four  days;  you  hadn't  been  gone  away,  half  an 
hour,  when  it  came ;  and  more  than  that,  it 's  got,  im- 
mediate, on  the  outside.' 

'Vere  is  it,  my  love?'  inquired  Sam. 

'I  took  care  of  it,  for  you,  or  I  dare  say  it  would 
have  been  lost  long  before  this,'  replied  Mary. 
'There,  take  it;  it 's  more  than  you  deserve.' 

With  these  words,  after  many  pretty  little  coquet- 
tish doubts  and  fears,  and  wishes  that  she  might  not 
have  lost  it,  Mary  produced  the  letter  from  behind  the 
nicest  little  muslin  tucker  possible,  and  handed  it  to 
Sam,  who  thereupon  kissed  it  with  much  gallantry 
and  devotion. 

'My  goodness  me!'  said  Mary,  adjusting  the  tucker, 
and  feigning  unconsciousness,  'you  seem  to  have 
grown  very  fond  of  it  all  at  once.' 

To  this  Mr.  Weller  only  replied  by  a  wink,  the  in- 
tense meaning  of  which  no  description  could  convey 
the  faintest  idea  of;  and,  sitting  himself  down  beside 
Mary  on  a  window-seat,  opened  the  letter  and  glanced 
at  the  contents. 

'Hallo!'  exclaimed  Sam,  'wot 's  all  this?' 

'Nothing  the  matter,  I  hope?'  said  Mary,  peeping 
over  his  shoulder. 

'Bless  them  eyes  o*  your'n !'  said  Sam,  looking  up. 

'Never  mind  my  eyes;  you  had  much  better  read 
your  letter,'  said  the  pretty  housemaid;  and  as  she 
said  so,  she  made  the  eyes  twinkle  with  such  slyness 
and  beauty  that  they  were  perfectly  irresistible. 

Sam  refreshed  himself  with  a  kiss,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : — 


428  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


'Markis  Gran 
By  darken 


'My  dear  Sammle, 

'I  am  wery  sorry  to  have  the  pleasure  of  bein  a  Bear 
of  ill  news  your  Mother  in  law  cort  cold  consekens 
of  imprudently  settin  too  long  on  -the  damp  grass  in 
the  rain  a  hearin  of  a  shepherd  who  warnt  able  to  leave 
off  till  late  at  night  owen  to  his  havin  vound  his-self 
up  vith  brandy  and  vater  and  not  being  able  to  stop 
.his-self  till  he  got  a  little  sober  which  took  a  many 
hours  to  do  the  doctor  says  that  if  she  'd  svallo'd  varm 
brandy  and  vater  artervards  insted  of  afore  she 
mightn't  have  been  no  vus  her  veels  wos  immedetly 
greased  and  everythink  done  to  set  her  agoin  as  could 
be  inwented  your  farther  had  hopes  as  she  vould  have 
vorked  round  as  usual  but  just  as  she  wos  a  turnen  the 
corner  my  boy  she  took  the  wrong  road  and  vent  down 
hill  vith  a  welocity  you  never  see  and  notvithstandin 
that  the  drag  wos  put  on  drectly  by  the  medikel  man 
it  wornt  of  no  use  at  all  for  she  paid  the  last  pike  at 
twenty  minutes  afore  six  o'clock  yesterday  evenin  havin 
done  the  jouney  wery  much  under  the  reglar  time  vich 
praps  was  partly  owen  to  her  haven  taken  in  wery 
little  luggage  by  the  vay  your  father  says  that  if  you 
vill  come  and  see  me  Sammy  he  vill  take  it  as  a  wery 
great  favor  for  I  am  wery  lonely  Samivel  n  b  he  vill 
have  it  spelt  that  vay  vich  I  say  ant  right  and  as  there 
is  sich  a  many  things  to  settle  he  is  sure  your  guvner 
wont  object  of  course  he  vill  not  Sammy  for  I  knows 
him  better  so  he  sends  his  dooty  in  which  I  join  and  am 
Samivel  infernally  your.« 

'TONY  VELLER/ 

'Wot  a  incomprehensible  letter/  said  Sam  ;  'who  's 
to  know  wot  it  means,  vith  all  this  he-ing  and  I  -ing' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  429 

It  ain't  my  father's  writin',  'cept  this  here  signater  in 
print  letters ;  that 's  his.' 

'Perhaps  he  got  somebody  to  write  it  for  him,  and 
signed  it  himself  afterwards,'  said  the  pretty  house- 
maid. 

'Stop  a  minit,'  replied  Sam,  running  over  the  letter 
again,  and  pausing  here  and  there,  to  reflect,  as  he  did 
so.  'You  Ve  hit  it.  The  genTm'n  as  wrote  it  wos 
a  tellin'  all  about  the  misfortun'  in  a  proper  vay,  and 
then  my  father  comes  a  lookin'  over  him,  and  compli- 
cates the  whole  concern  by  puttin'  his  oar  in.  That 's 
just  the  wery  sort  o'  thing  he  'd  do.  You  're  right, 
Mary,  my  dear.' 

Having  satisfied  himself  on  this  point,  Sam  read 
the  letter  all  over,  once  more,  and,  appearing  to  form 
a  clear  notion  of  its  contents  for  the  first  time,  ejacu- 
lated thoughtfully,  as  he  folded  it  up— 

'And  so  the  poor  creetur  's  dead !  I  'm  sorry  for  it. 
She  warn't  a  bad-disposed  'ooman,  if  them  shepherds 
had  let  her  alone.  I  'm  wery  sorry  for  it.' 

Mr.  Weller  uttered  these  words  in  so  serious  a  man- 
ner, that  the  pretty  housemaid  cast  down  her  eyes  and 
looked  very  grave. 

'Hows'ever,'  said  Sam,  putting  the  letter  in  his 
pocket  with  a  gentle  sigh,  'it  wos  to  be — and  wos,  as 
the  old  lady  said  arter  she'd  married  the  footman. 
Can't  be  helped  now,  can  it,  Mary?' 

Mary  shook  her  head,  and  sighed  too. 

'I  must  apply  to  the  hemperor  for  leave  of  ab- 
sence,' said  Sam. 

Mary  sighed  again.  The  letter  was  so  very  affect- 
ing. 

'Good-bye!'  said  Sam. 

'Good-bye,'  rejoined  the  pretty  housemaid,  turning 
her  head  away. 

'Well,  shake  hands,  won't  you  ?'  said  Sam. 


430  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  pretty  housemaid  put  out  a  hand  which,  al- 
though it  was  a  housemaid's,  was  a  very  small  one,  and 
rose  to  go. 

'I  shan't  be  wery  long  avay,'  said  Sam. 

'You  're  always  away,'  said  Mary,  giving  her  head 
the  slightest  possible  toss  in  the  air.  'You  no  sooner 
come,  Mr.  Weller,  than  you  go  again.' 

Mr.  Weller  drew  the  household  beauty  closer  to 
him,  and  entered  upon  a  whispering  conversation, 
which  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  she  turned  her 
face  round  and  condescended  to  look  at  him  again. 
When  they  parted,  it  was  somehow  or  other  indispens- 
ably necessary  for  her  to  go  to  her  room,  and  arrange 
the  cap  and  curls  before  she  could  think  of  presenting 
herself  to  her  mistress;  which  preparatory  ceremony 
she  went  off  to  perform,  bestowing  many  nods  and 
smiles  on  Sam  over  the  banisters  as  she  tripped  up- 
stairs. 

'I  shan't  be  avay  more  than  a  day,  or  two,  sir,  at  the 
farthest,'  said  Sam,  when  he  had  communicated  to 
Mr.  Pickwick  the  intelligence  of  his  father's  loss. 

'As  long  as  may  be  necessary,  Sam,'  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  'you  have  my  full  permission  to  remain.' 

Sam  bowed. 

'You  will  tell  your  father,  Sam,  that  if  I  can  be  of 
any  assistance  to  him  in  his  present  situation,  I  shall 
be  most  willing  and  ready  to  lend  him  any  aid  in  my 
power,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Thank  'ee,  sir,'  rejoined  Sam.  'I  '11  mention  it, 
sir/ 

And  with  some  expressions  of  mutual  good-will  and 
interest,  master  and  man  separated. 

It  was  just  seven  o'clock  when  Samuel  Weller, 
alighting  from  the  box  of  a  stage-coach  which  passed 
through  Dorking,  stood  within  a  few  hundred  yards 
of  the  Marquis  of  Granby.  It  was  a  cold  dull 


IH 

evening;  the  little  street  looked  dreary  and  dismal: 
and  the  mahogany  countenance  of  the  nohle  and 
gallant  Marquis  seemed  to  wear  a  more  sad  ami 
ancholy  expression  than  it  was  wont  to  do,  as  it  swung 
to  and  fro,  creaking  mournfully  in  the  wind.  The 
blinds  were  pulled  down,  and  the  shutters  partly 
closed;  of  the  knot  of  loungers  that  usually  collected 
about  the  door,  not  one  was  to  be  seen ;  the  place  was 
silent  and  desolate. 

Seeing  nobody  of  whom  he  could  ask  any  prelimi- 
nary questions,  Sam  walked  softly  in.  Glancing 
round,  he  quickly  recognised  his  parent  in  the  distance. 

The  widower  was  seated  at  a  small  round  table  in 
the  little  room  behind  the  bar,  smoking  a  pipe,  with  his 
intently  fixed  upon  the  fire.  The  funeral  had 
evidently  taken  place  that  day ;  for  attached  to  his  hat, 
which  he  still  retained  on  his  head,  was  a  hatband 
measuring  about  a  yard  and  a  half  in  length,  which 
hung  over  the  top  rail  of  the  chair  and  streamed  negli- 
gently down.  Mr.  Weller  was  in  a  very  abstracted 
and  contemplative  mood.  Notwithstanding  that  Sam 
called  him  by  name  several  times,  he  still  continued 
to  smoke  with  the  same  fixed  and  quiet  countenance, 
and  was  only  roused  ultimately  by  his  son's  placing 
the  palm  of  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

'Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'you  're  welcome/ 

I  \  t  l>een  a  callin'  to  you  half  a  dozen  times/  said 
Sam.  hanging  his  hat  on  a  peg,  'but  you  didn't  hear 
me.1 

'Xo,  Sammy/  replied  Mr.  Weller.  again  looking 
thoughtfully  at  the  fire.  'I  wos  in  a  referee,  Sammy/ 

\\  ot  about  C  inquired  Sam,  drawing  his  chair  up  to 
the  tire. 

In    a    referee,    Sammy/    replied   the   elder    Mr 
Weller,  'regarding  her,  Samivel/     Here  Mr.  Weller 
jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  Dorking  church- 


432  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

yard,  in  mute  explanation  that  his  words  referred  to 
the  late  Mrs.  Weller. 

'I  wos  a  thinkin',  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller  eyeing 
his  son,  with  great  earnestness,  over  his  pipe ;  as  if  to 
assure  him  that  however  extraordinary  and  incredible 
the  declaration  might  appear,  it  was  nevertheless 
calmly  and  deliberately  uttered.  'I  wos  a  thinkin', 
Sammy,  that  upon  the  whole  I  wos  wery  sorry  she 
wos  gone.' 

'Veil,  and  so  you  ought  to  be,'  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  his  acquiescence  in  the  senti- 
ment, and  again  fastening  his  eyes  on  the  fire, 
shrouded  himself  in  a  cloud,  and  mused  deeply. 

'Those  wos  wery  sensible  observations  as  she  made, 
Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  driving  the  smoke  away 
with  is  hand,  after  a  long  silence. 

'Wot  observations?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Them  as  she  made,  arter  she  was  took  ill,'  replied 
the  old  gentleman. 

'Wot  wos  they?' 

'Somethin'  to  this  here  effect.  "Veller,"  she  says, 
"I  'm  af  card  I  've  not  done  by  you  quite  wot  I  ought 
to  have  done ;  you  're  a  wery  kind-hearted  man,  and  I 
might  ha'  made  your  home  more  comfortabler. 
I  begin  to  see  now,"  she  says,  "ven  it 's  too 
late,  that  if  a  married  'ooman  vishes  to  be 
religious,  she  should  begin  vith  dischargin'  her 
dooties  at  home,  and  makin'  them  as  is  about 
her  cheerful  and  happy,  and  that  vile  she 
goes  to  church,  or  chapel,  or  wot  not,  at  all  proper 
times,  she  should  be  wery  careful  not  to  con-wert  this 
sort  o'  thing  into  a  excuse  for  idleness  or  self-indul- 
gence. I  have  done  this,"  she  says,  "and  I  Ve  vasted 
time  and  substance  on  them  as  has  done  it  more  than 
me ;  but  I  hope  ven  I  }m  gone,  Veller,  that  you  '11 
think  on  me  as  I  wos  afore  I  know'd  them  people,  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  433 

as  I  raly  wos  by  natur'."  "Susan,"  says  I, — I  wos 
took  up  wery  short  by  this,  Samivel ;  I  von't  deny  it, 
my  boy — "Susan,"  I  says,  "you  've  been  a  wery  good 
vife  to  me,  altogether;  don't  say  nothin'  at  all  about  it; 
keep  a  good  heart,  my  dear;  and  you  '11  live  to  see  me 
punch  that  'ere  Stiggins's  head  yet."  She  smiled  at 
this,  Samivel,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  stifling  a  sigh 
with  his  pipe,  'but  she  died  arter  all !' 

'Veil,'  said  Sam,  venturing  to  offer  a  little  homely 
consolation,  after  the  lapse  of  three  or  four  minutes, 
consumed  by  the  old  gentleman  in  slowly  shaking  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  and  solemnly  smoking;  'veil, 
gov'ner,  ve  must  all  come  to  it,  one  day  or  another.' 

'So  we  must,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller  the  elder. 

'There  's  a  Providence  in  it  all,'  said  Sam. 

'O'  course  there  is/  replied  his  father  with  a  nod  of 
grave  approval.  'Wot  'ud  become  of  the  undertakers 
vithout  it,  Sammy?' 

Lost  in  the  immense  field  of  conjecture  opened  by 
this  reflection,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  laid  his  pipe  on 
the  table,  and  stirred  the  fire  with  a  meditative  visage. 

While  the  old  gentleman  was  thus  engaged,  a  very 
buxom-looking  cook,  dressed  in  mourning,  who  had 
been  bustling  about,  in  the  bar,  glided  into  the  room, 
and  bestowing  many  smirks  of  recognition  upon  Sam, 
silently  stationed  herself  at  the  back  of  his  father's 
chair,  and  announced  her  presence  by  a  slight  cough: 
the  which,  being  disregarded,  was  followed  by  a 
louder  one. 

'Hallo!'  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  dropping  the 
poker  as  he  looked  round,  and  hastily  drew  his  chair 
away.  'Wot 's  the  matter  now?' 

'Have  a  cup  of  tea,  there  's  a  good  soul,'  replied  the 
buxom  female,  coaxingly. 

'I  von't,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  somewhat  boister- 
ous manner,  'I'll  see  you—  Mr.  Weller  hastily 


134  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

checked  himself,  and  added  in  a  low  tone,  'furder 
fust.' 

'Oh,  dear,  dear!  How  adversity  does  change  peo- 
ple!' said  the  lady,  looking  upwards. 

'It 's  the  only  think  'twixt  this  and  the  doctor  as 
shall  change  my  condition,'  muttered  Mr.  Weller. 

'I  really  never  saw  a  man  so  cross,'  said  the  buxom 
female. 

'Never  mind.  It 's  all  for  my  own  good ;  vich  is  the 
reflection  vith  wich  the  penitent  schoolboy  comforted 
his  feelin's  ven  they  flogged  him,'  rejoined  the  old 
gentleman. 

The  buxom  female  shook  her  head  with  a  compas- 
sionate and  sympathising  air;  and,  appealing  to  Sam, 
inquired  whether  his  father  really  ought  not  to  make 
an  effort  to  keep  up,  and  not  give  way  to  that  lowness 
of  spirits. 

'You  see,  Mr.  Samuel,'  said  the  buxom  female,  'as  I 
was  telling  him  yesterday,  he  will  feel  lonely,  he  can't 
expect  but  what  he  should,  sir,  but  he  should  keep  up 
a  good  heart,  because,  dear  me,  I  'm  sure  we  all  pity 
his  loss,  and  are  ready  to  do  anything  for  him;  and 
there  's  no  situation  in  life  so  bad,  Mr.  Samuel,  that  it 
can't  be  mended.  Which  is  what  a  very  worthy  per- 
son said  to  me  when  my  husband  died.'  Here  the 
speaker,  putting  her  hand  before  her  mouth,  coughed 
again,  and  looked  affectionately  at  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller. 

'As  I  don't  rekvire  any  o'  your  conversation  just 
now,  mum,  vill  you  have  the  goodness  to  re-tire?'  in- 
quired Mr.  Weller,  in  a  grave  and  steady  voice. 

'Well,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  the  buxom  female,  'I  'm 
sure  I  only  spoke  to  you  out  of  kindness.' 

'Wery  likely,  mum,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'Sami- 
vel,  show  the  lady  out,  and  shut  the  door  arter  her.' 

This  hint  was  not  lost  upon  the  buxom  female ;  for 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  435 

she  at  once  left  the  room,  and  slammed  the  door  be- 
hind her,  upon  which  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  falling  back 
in  his  chair  in  a  violent  perspiration,  said — 

'Sammy,  if  I  wos  to  stop  here  alone  vun  veek— 
only  vun  veek,  my  boy — that  'ere  'ooman  'ud  marry 
me  by  force  and  wiolence  afore  it  was  over.' 

'Wot!  Is  she  so  wery  fond  on  you?'  inquired 
Sam. 

'Fond!'  replied  his  father,  'I  can't  keep  her  avay 
from  me.  If  I  was  locked  up  in  a  fire-proof  chest 
vith  a  patent  Brahmin,  she  'd  find  means  to  get  at 
me,  Sammy.' 

'Wot  a  thing  it  is,  to  be  so  sought  arter!'  observed 
Sam,  smiling. 

'I  don't  take  no  pride  out  on  it,  Sammy,'  replied 
Mr.  Weller,  poking  the  fire  vehemently,  'it 's  a  horrid 
sitiwation.  I  'm  actiwally  drove  out  o'  house  and 
home  by  it.  The  breath  was  scarcely  out  o'  your  poor 
mother-in-law's  body,  ven  vun  old  'ooman  sends  me 
a  pot  o'  jam,  and  another  a  pot  o'  jelly,  and  another 
brews  a  blessed  large  jug  o'  camomile-tea,  vich  she 
brings  in  vith  her  own  hands.'  Mr.  Weller  paused 
with  an  aspect  of  intense  disgust,  and,  looking  round, 
added  in  a  whisper,  'They  was  all  widders,  Sammy, 
all  on  'em,  'cept  the  camomile-tea  vun,  as  wos  a  single 
young  lady  o'  fifty-three.' 

Sam  gave  a  comical  look  in  reply,  and  the  old  gen- 
tleman having  broken  an  obstinate  lump  of  coal,  with 
a  countenance  expressive  of  as  much  earnestness  and 
malice  as  if  it  had  been  the  head  of  one  of  the  widows 
last-mentioned,  said— 

'In  short,  Sammy,  I  feel  that  I  ain't  safe  anyveres 
but  on  the  box.' 

'How  are  you  safer  there  than  anyveres  else?'  inter- 
rupted Sam. 

'  'Cos  a  coachman  's  a  privileged  indiwidual,'  re- 


436  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

plied  Mr.  Weller,  looking  fixedly  at  his  son.  '  'Cos 
a  coachman  may  do  vithout  suspicion  wot  other  men 
may  not;  'cos  a  coachman  may  be  on  the  wery 
amicablest  terms  with  eighty  mile  o'  females,  and  yet 
nobody  think  that  he  ever  means  to  marry  any  vim 
among  'em.  And  wot  other  man  can  say  the  same, 
Sammy?' 

'Veil,  there  's  somethin'  in  that/  said  Sam. 

'If  your  gov'ner  had  been  a  coachman,'  reasoned 
Mr.  Weller,  'do  you  s'pose  as  that  'ere  jury  'ud  ever 
ha'  conwicted  him,  s'posin'  it  possible  as  the  matter 
could  ha'  gone  to  that  extremity?  They  dustn't  ha' 
done  it.' 

'Wy  not?'  said  Sam,  rather  disparagingly. 

'Wy  not!'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller;  '  'cos  it  'ud  ha' 
gone  agin'  their  consciences.  A  reg'lar  coachman  's 
a  sort  o'  con-nectin'  link  betwixt  singleness  and  matri- 
mony, and  every  practicable  man  knows  it.' 

'Wot !  You  mean,  they  're  gen'ral  f av'rites,  and 
nobody  takes  adwantage  on  'em,  p'raps  ?'  said  Sam. 

His  father  nodded. 

'How  it  ever  come  to  that  'ere  pass,'  resumed  the 
parent  Weller,  'I  can't  say.  Wy  it  is  that  long-stage 
coachmen  possess  such  insiniwations,  and  is  alvays 
looked  up  to — a-dored  I  may  say — by  ev'ry  young 
'ooman  in  ev'ry  town  he  vurks  through,  I  don't  know- 
I  only  know  that  so  it  is.  It 's  a  reg'lation  of  natur' 
— a  dispensary,  as  your  poor  mother-in-law  used  to 
say.' 

'A  dispensation,'  said  Sam,  correcting  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

'Wery  good,  Samivel,  a  dispensation  if  you  like  it 
better,'  returned  Mr.  Weller;  fl  call  it  a  dispensary, 
and  it  *s  always  writ  up  so,  at  the  places  vere  they 
gives  you  physic  for  nothin'  in  your  own  bottles; 
that 's  all.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  437 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Weller  re-filled  and  re- 
lighted his  pipe,  and  once  more  summoning  up  a  medi- 
tative expression  of  countenance,  continued  as  fol- 
lows : — 

'Therefore,  my  boy,  as  I  do  not  see  the  adwisability 
o'  stoppin'  here  to  be  marrid  vether  I  vant  to  or  not, 
and  as  at  the  same  time  I  do  not  vish  to  separate  my- 
self from  them  interestin'  members  o'  society  alto- 
gether, I  have  come  to  the  determination  o'  drivin' 
the  Safety,  and  puttin'  up  vunce  more  at  the  Belle 
Savage,  vich  is  my  nat'ral-born  element,  Sammy.' 

'And  wot 's  to  become  o'  the  bis'ness  ?'  inquired 
Sam. 

'The  bis'ness,  Samivel,'  replied  the  old  gentleman, 
'good-vill,  stock,  and  fixters,  vill  be  sold  by  private 
contract;  and  out  o'  the  money,  two  hundred  pound, 
agreeable  to  a  rekvest  o'  your  mother-in-law's  to  me 
a  little  afore  she  died,  vill  be  inwested  in  your  name  in 
— wot  do  you  call  them  things  again?' 

'Wot  things?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Them  things  as  is  always  a  goin'  up  and  down, 
in  the  City.' 

'Omnibuses?'  suggested  Sam. 

'Nonsense,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'Them  things 
as  is  alvays  a  fluctooatin',  and  gettin'  theirselves  in- 
wolved  somehow  or  another  vith  the  national  debt,  and 
the  checquers  bills,  and  all  that.' 

'Oh!  the  funds,'  said  Sam. 

'Ah!'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  'the  funs;  two  hundred 
pounds  o'  the  money  is  to  be  inwested  for  you,  Sami- 
vel, in  the  funs;  four  and  a  half  per  cent,  reduced 
counsels,  Sammy.' 

'Wery  kind  o'  the  old  lady  to  think  o'  me,'  said 
Sam,  'and  I  'm  wery  much  obliged  to  her.' 

'The  rest  vill  be  inwested  in  my  name,'  continued 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller ;  'and  ven  I  'm  took  off  the 


438 

road,  it  '11  come  to  you,  so  take  care  you  don't  spend 
it  all  at  vunst,  my  boy,  and  mind  that  no  widder  gets 
a  inklin'  o'  your  fortun',  or  you  're  done.' 

Having  delivered  this  warning,  Mr.  Weller  re- 
sumed his  pipe  with  a  more  serene  countenance;  the 
disclosure  of  these  matters  appearing  to  have  eased 
his  mind  considerably. 

'Somebody  's  a  tappin'  at  the  door,'  said  Sam. 

'Let  'em  tap,'  replied  his  father,  with  dignity. 

Sam  acted  upon  the  direction.  There  was  another 
tap,  and  another,  and  then  a  long  row  of  taps;  upon 
which  Sam  inquired  why  the  tapper  was  not  admitted. 

'Hush,'  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  with  apprehensive 
looks,  'don't  take  no  notice  on  'em,  Sammy,  it 's  vun 
o'  the  widders,  p'raps.' 

No  notice  being  taken  of  the  taps,  the  unseen  vis- 
itor, after  a  short  lapse,  ventured  to  open  the  door 
and  peep  in.  It  was  no  female  head  that  was  thrust 
in  at  the  partially  opened  door,  but  the  long  black 
locks  and  red  face  of  Mr.  Stiggins.  Mr.  Weller's 
pipe  fell  from  his  hands. 

The  reverend  gentleman  gradually  opened  the  door 
by  almost  imperceptible  degrees,  until  the  aperture 
was  just  wide  enough  to  admit  of  the  passage  of  his 
lank  body,  when  he  glided  into  the  room  and  closed 
it  after  him  with  great  care  and  gentleness.  Turn- 
ing towards  Sam,  and  raising  his  hands  and  eyes  in 
token  of  the  unspeakable  sorrow  with  which  he  re- 
garded the  calamity  that  had  befallen  the  family, 
he  carried  the  high-backed  chair  to  his  old  corner  by 
the  fire,  and,  seating  himself  on  the  very  edge,  drew 
forth  a  brown  pocket-handkerchief,  and  applied  the 
same  to  his  optics. 

While  this  was  going  forward,  the  elder  Mr.  Wel- 
ler sat  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  eyes  wide  open, 
his  hands  planted  on  his  knees,  and  his  whole  counte- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  439 

nance  expressive  of  absorbing  and  overwhelming  as- 
tonishment. Sam  sat  opposite  him  in  perfect  silence, 
waiting,  with  eager  curiosity,  for  the  termination  of 
the  scene. 

Mr.  Stiggins  kept  the  brown  pocket-handkerchief 
before  his  eyes  for  some  minutes,  moaning  decently 
meanwhile,  and  then,  mastering  his  feelings  by  a 
strong  effort,  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  buttoned  it 
up.  After  this,  he  stirred  the  fire;  after  that,  he 
rubbed  his  hands  and  looked  at  Sam. 

'Oh,  my  young  friend,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  break- 
ing the  silence  in  a  very  low  voice,  'here  's  a  sorrow- 
ful affliction!' 

Sam  nodded  very  slightly. 

'For  the  man  of  wrath,  too!'  added  Mr.  Stiggins; 
'it  makes  a  vessel's  heart  bleed !' 

Mr.  Weller  was  overheard  by  his  son  to  murmur 
something  relative  to  making  a  vessel's  nose  bleed; 
but  Mr.  Stiggins  heard  him  not. 

'Do  you  know,  young  man,'  whispered  Mr.  Stig- 
gins, drawing  his  chair  closer  to  Sam,  'whether  she  has 
left  Emanuel  anything?' 

'Who  's  he?'  inquired  Sam. 

'The  chapel/  replied  Mr.  Stiggins;  'our  chapel; 
our  fold,  Mr.  Samuel.' 

'She  hasn't  left  the  fold  nothin',  nor  the  shep- 
herd nothin',  nor  the  animals  nothin','  said  Sam,  de- 
cisively; 'nor  the  dogs  neither.' 

Mr.  Stiggins  looked  slyly  at  Sam;  glanced  at  the 
old  gentleman,  who  was  sitting  with  his  eyes  closed, 
as  if  asleep ;  and  drawing  his  chair  still  nearer,  said— 

'Nothing  for  me,  Mr.  Samuel?' 

Sam  shook  his  head. 

'I  think  there  's  something,'  said  Stiggins,  turn- 
ing as  pale  as  he  could  turn.  'Consider,  Mr.  Samuel; 
no  little  token?' 


440  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Not  so  much  as  the  vorth  o'  that  'ere  old  umberella 
o'  your'n/  replied  Sam. 

'Perhaps,'  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  hesitatingly,  after  a 
few  moments'  deep  thought,  'perhaps  she  recom- 
mended me  to  the  care  of  the  man  of  wrath,  Mr. 
Samuel?' 

'I  think  that 's  wery  likely,  from  what  he  said,'  re- 
joined Sam;  'he  wos  a  speakin'  about  you,  jist  now.' 

'Was  he,  though?'  exclaimed  Stiggins,  brightening 

up.     'Ah !  He  's  changed,   I  dare  say.     We  might 

live  very  comfortably  together  now,  Mr.  Samuel,  eh? 

I  could  take  care  of  his  property  when  you  are  away 

—good  care,  you  see.' 

Heaving  a  long-drawn  sigh,  Mr.  Stiggins  paused 
for  a  response.  Sam  nodded,  and  Mr.  Weller,  the 
elder,  gave  vent  to  an  extraordinary  sound,  which  be- 
ing neither  a  groan,  nor  a  grunt,  nor  a  gasp,  nor  a 
growl,  seemed  to  partake  in  some  degree  of  the  char- 
acter of  all  four. 

Mr.  Stiggins,  encouraged  by  this  sound,  which  he 
understood  to  betoken  remorse  or  repentance,  looked 
about  him,  rubbed  his  hands,  wept,  smiled,  wept  again, 
and  then,  walking  softly  across  the  room  to  a  well- 
remembered  shelf  in  one  corner,  took  down  a  tum- 
bler, and  with  great  deliberation  put  four  lumps  of 
sugar  in  it.  Having  got  thus  far,  he  looked  about 
him  again,  and  sighed  grievously;  with  that,  he  walked 
softly  into  the  bar,  and  presently  returning  with  the 
tumbler  half  full  of  pine-apple  rum,  advanced  to  the 
kettle  which  was  singing  gaily  on  the  hob,  mixed  his 
grog,  stirred  it,  sipped  it,  sat  down,  and  taking  a 
long  and  hearty  pull  at  the  rum-and-water,  stopped 
for  breath. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller,  who  still  continued  to  make 
various  strange  and  uncouth  attempts  to  appear 
asleep,  offered  not  a  single  word  during  these  pro- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  441 

ceedings;  but  when  Stiggins  stopped  for  breath,  he 
darted  upon  him,  and  snatching  the  tumbler  from  his 
hand,  threw  the  remainder  of  the  rum-and-water  in 
his  face,  and  the  glass  itself  into  the  grate.  Then, 
seizing  the  reverend  gentleman  firmly  by  the  collar, 
he  suddenly  fell  to  kicking  him  most  furiously:  ac- 
companying every  application  of  his  top-boots  to  Mr. 
Stiggins's  person,  with  sundry  violent  and  incoherent 
anathemas  upon  his  limbs,  eyes,  and  body. 

'Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'put  my  hat  on  tight  for 
me.' 

Sam  dutifully  adjusted  the  hat  with  the  long  hat- 
band more  firmly  on  his  father's  head,  and  the  old 
gentleman,  resuming  his  kicking  with  greater  agility 
than  before,  tumbled  with  Mr.  Stiggins  through  the 
bar,  through  the  passage,  out  at  the  front  door,  and 
so  into  the  street;  the  kicking  continuing  the  whole 
way,  and  increasing  in  vehemence,  rather  than  dimin- 
ishing, every  time  the  top-boot  was  lifted. 

It  was  a  beautiful  and  exhilarating  sight  to  see 
the  red-nosed  man  writhing  in  Mr.  Weller's  grasp, 
and  his  whole  frame  quivering  with  anguish  as  kick 
followed  kick  in  rapid  succession;  it  was  a  still  more 
exciting  spectacle  to  behold  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  pow- 
erful struggle,  immersing  Mr.  Stiggins's  head  in  a 
horse-trough  full  of  water,  and  holding  it  there  until 
he  was  half  suffocated. 

'There!'  said  Mr.  Weller,  throwing  all  his  energy 
into  one  most  complicated  kick,  as  he  at  length  per- 
mitted Mr.  Stiggins  to  withdraw  his  dead  from  the 
trough,  'send  any  vun  o'  them  lazy  shepherds  here, 
and  I  '11  pound  him  to  a  jelly  first,  and  drownd  him 
artervards!  Sammy,  help  me  in,  and  fill  me  a  small 
glass  of  brandy.  I  'm  out  o'  breath,  my  boy.' 


442  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


CHAPTER  LIII 

COMPRISING  THE  FINAL  EXIT  OF  MR.  JINGLE  AND  JOB 
TROTTER;  WITH  A  GREAT  MORNING  OF  BUSINESS  IN 
GRAY'S  INN  SQUARE.  CONCLUDING  WITH  A  DOUBLE 
KNOCK  AT  MR.  PERKER's  DOOR 

WHEN  Arabella,  after  some  gentle  preparation,  and 
many  assurances  that  there  was  not  the  least  occa- 
sion for  being  low-spirited,  was  at  length  made  ac- 
quainted by  Mr.  Pickwick  with  the  unsatisfactory 
result  of  his  visit  to  Birmingham,  she  burst  into  tears, 
and  sobbing  aloud,  lamented  in  moving  terms  that  she 
should  have  been  the  unhappy  cause  of  any  estrange- 
ment between  a  father  and  his  son. 

'My  dear  girl,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  kindly,  'it  is  no 
fault  of  yours.  It  was  impossible  to  foresee  that  the 
old  gentleman  would  be  so  strongly  prepossessed 
against  his  son's  marriage,  you  know.  I  am  sure,' 
added  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing  at  her  pretty  face, 
'he  can  have  very  little  idea  of  the  pleasure  he  denies 
himself.' 

'Oh  my  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Arabella,  'what 
shall  we  do,  if  he  continues  to  be  angry  with  us  ?' 

'Why,  wait  patiently,  my  dear,  until  he  thinks  bet- 
ter of  it,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  cheerfully. 

'But,  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  is  to  become  of 
Nathaniel  if  his  father  withdraws  his  assistance?' 
urged  Arabella. 

'In  that  case,  my  love,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I 
will  venture  to  prophesy  that  he  will  find  some  other 
friend  who  will  not  be  backward  in  helping  him  to 
start  in  the  world.' 

The  significance  of  this  reply  was  not  so  well  dis- 
guised by  Mr.  Pickwick  but  that  Arabella  understood 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  443 

it.  So  throwing  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and 
kissing  him  affectionately,  she  sobbed  louder  than 
before. 

'Come,  come,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  her  hand, 
Ve  will  wait  here  a  few  days  longer,  and  see  whether 
he  writes  or  takes  any  other  notice  of  your  husband's 
communication.  If  not,  I  have  thought  of  half  a 
dozen  plans,  any  one  of  which  would  make  you  happy 
at  once.  There,  my  dear,  there!' 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pressed 
Arabella's  hand,  and  bade  her  dry  her  eyes,  and  not 
distress  her  husband.  Upon  which,  Arabella,  who 
was  one  of  the  best  little  creatures  alive,  put  her  hand- 
kerchief in  her  reticule,  and  by  the  time  Mr.  Winkle 
joined  them,  exhibited  in  full  lustre  the  same  beaming 
smiles  and  sparkling  eyes  that  had  originally  capti- 
vated him. 

'This  is  a  distressing  predicament  for  these  young 
people,'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  dressed  himself 
next  morning.  'I  '11  walk  up  to  Perker's,  and  con- 
sult him  about  the  matter.' 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  was  further  prompted  to  betake 
himself  to  Gray's  Inn  Square,  by  an  anxious  desire 
to  come  to  a  pecuniary  settlement  with  the  kind- 
hearted  little  attorney  without  further  delay,  he  made 
a  hurried  breakfast,  and  executed  his  intention  so 
speedily,  that  ten  o'clock  had  not  struck  when  he 
reached  Gray's  Inn. 

It  still  wanted  ten  minutes  to  the  hour  when  he  had 
ascended  the  staircase  on  which  Perker's  chambers 
were.  The  clerks  had  not  arrived  yet,  and  he  be- 
guiled the  time  by  looking  out  of  the  staircase  win- 
dow. 

The  healthy  light  of  a  fine  October  morning  made 
even  the  dingy  old  houses  brighten  up  a  little:  some 
of  the  dusty  windows  actually  looking  almost  cheer- 


444  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

ful  as  the  sun's  rays  gleamed  upon  them.  Clerk 
after  clerk  hastened  into  the  square  by  one  or  other 
of  the  entrances,  and  looking  up  at  the  Hall  clock, 
accelerated  or  decreased  his  rate  of  walking  accord- 
ing to  the  time  at  which  his  office  hours  nominally 
commenced;  the  half -past  nine  o'clock  people  sud- 
denly becoming  very  brisk,  and  the  ten  o'clock  gentle- 
men falling  into  a  pace  of  most  aristocratic  slowness. 
The  clock  struck  ten,  and  clerks  poured  in  faster  than 
ever,  each  one  in  a  greater  perspiration  than  his  pred- 
ecessor. The  noise  of  unlocking  and  opening  doors 
echoed  and  re-echoed  on  every  side;  heads  appeared 
as  if  by  magic  in  every  window;  the  porters  took  up 
their  stations  for  the  day;  the  slipshod  laundresses 
hurried  off;  the  postman  ran  from  house  to  house; 
and  the  whole  legal  hive  was  in  a  bustle. 

'You  're  early,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  a  voice  behind 
him. 

'Ah,  Mr.  Lowten,'  replied  that  gentleman,  looking 
round,  and  recognising  his  old  acquaintance. 

'Precious  warm  walking,  isn't  it?'  said  Lowten, 
drawing  a  Bramah  key  from  his  pocket,  with  a  small 
plug  therein,  to  keep  the  dust  out. 

'You  appear  to  feel  it  so,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling  at  the  clerk,  who  was  literally  red-hot. 

'I  've  come  along  rather,  I  can  tell  you,'  replied 
Lowten.  'It  went  the  half -hour  as  I  came  through 
the  Polygon.  I  'm  here  before  him,  though,  so  I 
don't  mind.' 

Comforting  himself  with  this  reflection,  Mr.  Low- 
ten  extracted  the  plug  from  the  door-key,  and  having 
opened  the  door,  replugged  and  repocketed  his  Bra- 
mah, and  picked  up  the  letters  which  the  postman 
had  dropped  through  the  box.  He  then  ushered  Mr. 
Pickwick  into  the  office.  Here,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  he  divested  himself  of  his  coat,  put  on  a 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  445 

threadbare  garment  which  he  took  out  of  a  desk,  hung 
up  his  hat,  pulled  forth  a  few  sheets  of  cartridge  and 
blotting-paper  in  alternate  layers,  and  sticking  a  pen 
behind  his  ear,  rubbed  his  hands  with  an  air  of  great 
satisfaction. 

'There  you  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  he  said,  'now  I  'm 
complete.  I  've  got  my  office  coat  on,  and  my  pad 
out,  and  let  him  come  as  soon  as  he  likes.  You 
haven't  got  a  pinch  of  snuff  about  you,  have  you?' 

'No,  I  have  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  'm  sorry  for  it,'  said  Lowten.  'Never  mind. 
I  '11  run  out  presently,  and  get  a  bottle  of  soda. 
Don't  I  look  rather  queer  about  the  eyes,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick?' 

The  individual  appealed  to,  surveyed  Mr.  Low- 
ten's  eyes  from  a  distance  and  expressed  his  opinion 
that  no  unusual  queerness  was  perceptible  in  those 
features. 

'I  'm  glad  of  it,'  said  Lowten.  'We  were  keeping 
it  up  pretty  tolerably  at  the  Stump  last  night,  and 
I  'm  rather  out  of  sorts  this  morning.  Perker's  been 
about  that  business  of  yours,  by  the  bye.' 

'What  business?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Mrs. 
Bardell's  costs?' 

'No,  I  don't  mean  that,'  replied  Mr.  Lowten. 
'About  getting  that  customer  that  we  paid  the  ten 
shillings  in  the  pound  to  the  bill  discounter  for,  on 
your  account— to  get  him  out  of  the  Fleet,  you  know 
—about  getting  him  to  Demerara.' 

'Oh?  Mr.  Jingle?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 
'Yes.  Well?' 

'Well,  it 's  all  arranged,'  said  Lowten,  mending  his 
pen.  'The  agent  at  Liverpool  said  he  had  been 
obliged  to  you  many  times  when  you  were  in  busi- 
ness, and  he  would  be  glad  to  take  him  on  your  recom- 
mendation/ 


446  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'That 's  well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  '  I  am  delighted 
to  hear  it/ 

'But  I  say,'  resumed  Lowten,  scraping  the  back 
of  the  pen  preparatory  to  making  a  fresh  split,  'what 
a  soft  chap  that  other  is!' 

'Which  other?' 

'Why,  that  servant,  or  friend,  or  whatever  he  is— 
you  know;  Trotter/ 

'Ah?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile.  'I  always 
thought  him  the  reverse/ 

'Well,  and  so  did  I,  from  what  little  I  saw  of 
him/  replied  Lowten,  'it  only  shows  how  one  may  be 
deceived.  What  do  you  think  of  his  going  to 
Demerara,  too?' 

'What!  And  giving  up  what  was  offered  him 
here!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Treating  Perker's  offer  of  eighteen  bob  a-week, 
and  a  rise  if  he  behaved  himself,  like  dirt/  replied 
Lowten.  'He  said  he  must  go  along  with  the  other 
one,  and  so  they  persuaded  Perker  to  write  again, 
and  they've  got  him  something  on  the  same  estate; 
not  near  so  good,  Perker  says,  as  a  convict  would  get 
in  New  South  Wales,  if  he  appeared  at  his  trial  in 
a  new  suit  of  clothes/ 

'Foolish  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  glisten- 
ing eyes.  'Foolish  fellow/ 

'Oh,  it 's  worse  than  foolish;  it 's  downright  sneak- 
ing, you  know/  replied  Lowten,  nibbing  the  pen  with 
a  contemptuous  face.  'He  says  that  he  's  the  only 
friend  he  ever  had,  and  he  's  attached  to  him,  and 
all  that.  Friendship  's  a  very  good  thing  in  its  way : 
we  are  all  very  friendly  and  comfortable  at  the  Stump, 
for  instance,  over  our  grog,  where  every  man  pays 
for  himself;  but  damn  hurting  yourself  for  anybody 
else,  you  know !  No  man  should  have  more  than  two 
attachments — the  first,  to  number  one,  and  the  second 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  447 

to  the  ladies;  that 's  what  I  say — ha!  ha!'  Mr.  Low- 
ten  concluded  with  a  loud  laugh,  half  in  jocularity, 
and  half  in  derision,  which  was  prematurely  cut  short 
by  the  sound  of  Perker's  footsteps  on  the  stairs:  at 
the  first  approach  of  which,  he  vaulted  on  his  stool 
with  an  agility  most  remarkable,  and  wrote  intensely. 
The  greeting  between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  pro- 
fessional adviser  was  warm  and  cordial;  the  client 
was  scarcely  ensconced  in  the  attorney's  arm-chair, 
however,  when  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a 
voice  inquired  whether  Mr.  Perker  was  within. 

'Hark!'  said  Perker,  'that's  one  of  our  vagabond 
friends — Jingle  himself,  my  dear  sir.  Will  you  see 
him?' 

'What  do  you  think?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  hesi- 
tating. 

'Yes,  I  think  you  had  better.  Here,  you  sir,  what 's 
your  name,  walk  in,  will  you?' 

In  compliance  with  this  unceremonious  invitation, 
Jingle  and  Job  walked  into  the  room,  but,  seeing 
Mr.  Pickwick,  stopped  short  in  some  confusion. 

'Well,'  said  Perker,  'don't  you  know  that  gentle- 
man?' 

'Good  reason  to,'  replied  Mr.  Jingle,  stepping  for- 
ward. 'Mr.  Pickwick — deepest  obligations — life  pre- 
server— made  a  man  of  me — you  shall  never  repent  it, 
sir.' 

'I  am  happy  to  hear  you  say  so,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'You  look  much  better/ 

'Thanks  to  you,  sir — great  change — Majesty's 
Flee  ^--unwholesome  place — very,'  said  Jingle,  shak- 
ing his  head.  He  was  decently  and  cleanly  dressed, 
and  so  was  Job,  who  stood  bolt  upright  behind  him, 
staring  at  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  visage  of  iron. 

'When  do  they  go  to  Liverpool?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick,  half  aside  to  Perker. 


448  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'This  evening,  sir,  at  seven  o'clock,'  said  Job,  tak- 
ing one  step  forward.  'By  the  heavy  coach  from  the 
City,  sir.' 

'Are  your  places  taken?' 

'They  are,  sir,'  replied  Job. 

'You  have  fully  made  up  your  mind  to  go?' 

'I  hare,  sir,'  answered  Job. 

'With  regard  to  such  an  outfit  as  was  indispensable 
for  Jingle,'  said  Perker,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick 
aloud,  'I  have  taken  upon  myself  to  make  an  arrange- 
ment for  the  deduction  of  a  small  sum  from  his  quar- 
terly salary,  which,  being  made  only  for  one  year, 
and  regularly  remitted,  will  provide  for  that  expense. 
I  entirely  disapprove  of  your  doing  anything  for  him, 
my  dear  sir,  which  is  not  dependent  on  his  own  ex- 
ertions and  good  conduct.' 

'Certainly,'  interposed  Jingle,  with  great  firmness. 
'Clear  head — man  of  the  world — quite  right — per- 
fectly/ 

'By  compounding  with  his  creditor,  releasing  his 
clothes  from  the  pawnbroker's,  relieving  him  in  prison, 
and  paying  for  his  passage/  continued  Perker,  with- 
out noticing  Jingle's  observation,  'you  have  already 
lost  upwards  of  fifty  pounds.' 

'Not  lost,'  said  Jingle,  hastily.  'Pay  it  all — stick 
to  business — cash  up— every  farthing.  Yellow  fever, 
perhaps — can't  help  that — if-  Here  Mr.  Jingle 
paused,  and  striking  the  crown  of  his  hat  with  great 
violence,  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  sat  down. 

'He  means  to  say,'  said  Job,  advancing  a  few  paces, 
'that  if  he  is  not  carried  off  by  fever,  he  will  pay 
the  money  back  again.  If  he  lives,  he  will,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. I  will  see  it  done.  I  know  he  will,  sir,'  said 
Job,  with  energy.  'I  could  undertake  to  swear  it.' 

'Well,  well,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  be- 
stowing a  score  or  two  of  frowns  upon  Perker,  to 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  449 

stop  his  summary  of  benefits  conferred,  which  the 
little  attorney  obstinately  disregarded,  'you  must  be 
careful  not  to  play  any  more  desperate  cricket 
matches,  Mr.  Jingle,  or  to  renew  your  acquaintance 
with  Sir  Thomas  Blazo,  and  I  have  little  doubt  of 
your  preserving  your  health.' 

Mr.  Jingle  smiled  at  this  sally,  but  looked  rather 
foolish  notwithstanding,  so  Mr.  Pickwick  changed 
the  subject  by  saying — 

'You  don't  happen  to  know,  do  you,  what  has  be- 
come of  another  friend  of  yours — a  more  humble  one, 
whom  I  saw  at  Rochester?' 

'Dismal  Jemmy?'  inquired  Jingle. 

'Yes.' 

Jingle  shook  his  head. 

'Clever    rascal — queer    fellow,    hoaxing    genius- 
Job's  brother.' 

'Job's  brother!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Well, 
now  I  look  at  him  closely,  there  is  a  likeness.' 

'We  were  always  considered  like  each  other,  sir,' 
said  Job,  with  a  cunning  look  just  lurking  in  the 
corners  of  his  eyes,  'only  I  was  really  of  a  serious  na- 
ture, and  he  never  was.  He  emigrated  to  America, 
sir,  in  consequence  of  being  too  much  sought  after 
here,  to  be  comfortable;  and  has  never  been  heard  of 
since.' 

'That  accounts  for  my  not  having  received  the 
"page  from  the  romance  of  real  life,"  which  he  prom- 
ised me  one  morning  when  he  appeared  to  be  con- 
templating suicide  on  Rochester  Bridge,  I  suppose,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling.  'I  need  not  inquire 
whether  his  dismal  behaviour  was  natural  or  assumed.' 

'He  could  assume  anything,  sir,'  said  Job.  'You 
may  consider  yourself  very  fortunate  in  having  es- 
caped him  so  easily.  On  intimate  terms  he  would  have 
been  even  a  more  dangerous  acquaintance  than — ' 


450  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Job  looked  at  Jingle,  hesitated,  and  finally  added, 
'than — than — myself  even.' 

'A  hopeful  family  yours,  Mr.  Trotter,'  said  Perker, 
sealing  a  letter  which  he  had  just  finished  writing. 

'Yes,  sir,'  replied  Job.     'Very  much  so.' 

'Well,'  said  the  little  man,  laughing ;  'I  hope  you  are 
going  to  disgrace  it.  Deliver  this  letter  to  the  agent 
when  you  reach  Liverpool,  and  let  me  advise  you, 
gentlemen,  not  to  be  too  knowing  in  the  West  Indies. 
If  you  throw  away  this  chance,  you  will  both  richly 
deserve  to  be  hanged,  as  I  sincerely  trust  you  will 
be.  And  now  you  had  better  leave  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
me  alone,  for  we  have  other  matters  to  talk  over,  and 
time  is  precious.'  As  Perker  said  this,  he  looked  to- 
wards the  door,  with  an  evident  desire  to  render  the 
leave-taking  as  brief  as  possible. 

It  was  brief  enough  on  Mr.  Jingle's  part.  He 
thanked  the  little  attorney  in  a  few  hurried  words  for 
the  kindness  and  promptitude  with  which  he  had  ren- 
dered his  assistance,  and,  turning  to  his  benefactor, 
stood  for  a  few  seconds  as  if  irresolute  what  to  say  or 
how  to  act.  Job  Trotter  relieved  his  perplexity;  for, 
with  a  humble  and  a  grateful  bow  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
he  took  his  friend  gently  by  the  arm,  and  led  him 
away. 

'A  worthy  couple!'  said  Perker,  as  the  door  closed 
behind  them. 

'I  hope  they  may  become  so,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'What  do  you  think?  Is  there  any  chance  of  their 
permanent  reformation?' 

Perker  shrugged  his  shoulders  doubtfully,  but 
observing  Mr.  Pickwick's  anxious  and  disappointed 
look,  rejoined — 

'Of  course  there  is  a  chance.  I  hope  it  may  prove 
a  good  one.  They  are  unquestionably  penitent  now; 
but  then,  you  know,  they  have  the  recollection  of  very 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  451 

recent  suffering  fresh  upon  them.  What  they  may  be- 
come, when  that  fades  away,  is  a  problem  that  neither 
you  nor  I  can  solve.  However,  my  dear  sir,'  added 
Perker,  laying  his  hand  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  shoul- 
der, 'your  object  is  equally  honourable,  whatever  the 
result  is.  Whether  that  species  of  benevolence  which 
is  so  very  cautious  and  long-sighted  that  it  is  seldom 
exercised  at  all,  lest  its  owner  should  be  imposed  upon, 
and  so  wounded  in  his  self-love,  be  real  charity  or  a 
worldly  counterfeit,  I  leave  to  wiser  heads  than  mine 
to  determine.  But  if  those  two  fellows  were  to  com- 
mit a  burglary  to-morrow,  my  opinion  of  this  action 
would  be  equally  high.' 

With  these  remarks,  which  were  delivered  in  a  much 
more  animated  and  earnest  manner  than  is  usual  in 
legal  gentlemen,  Perker  drew  his  chair  to  his  desk, 
and  listened  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  recital  of  old  Mr. 
Winkle's  obstinacy. 

'Give  him  a  week,'  said  Perker,  nodding  his  head 
prophetically. 

'Do  you  think  he  will  come  round?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'I  think  he  will,'  rejoined  Perker.  'If  not,  we 
must  try  the  young  lady's  persuasion ;  and  that  is  what 
anybody  but  you  would  have  done  at  first.' 

Mr.  Perker  was  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  vari- 
ous grotesque  contractions  of  countenance,  eulogistic 
of  the  persuasive  powers  appertaining  unto  young 
ladies,  when  the  murmur  of  inquiry  and  answer  was 
heard  in  the  outer  office,  and  Lowten  tapped  at  the 
door. 

'Come  in!'  cried  the  little  man. 

The  clerk  came  in,  and  shut  the  door  after  him,  with 
great  mystery. 

'What 's  the  matter?'  inquired  Perker. 

'You  're  wanted,  sir.' 


452  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Who  wants  me  ?' 

Lowten  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  coughed. 

'Who  wants  me?     Can't  you  speak,  Mr.  Lowten?' 

'Why,  sir,'  replied  Lowten,  'it 's  Dodson ;  and  Fogg 
is  with  him.' 

'Bless  my  life!'  said  the  little  man,  looking  at  his 
watch,  'I  appointed  them  to  be  here,  at  half -past 
eleven,  to  settle  that  matter  of  yours,  Pickwick.  I 
gave  them  an  undertaking  on  which  they  sent  down 
your  discharge ;  it 's  very  awkward,  my  dear  sir. 
What  will  you  do?  Would  you  like  to  step  into  the 
next  room?' 

The  next  room  being  the  identical  room  in  which 
Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  were,  Mr.  Pickwick  re- 
plied that  he  would  remain  where  he  was:  the  more 
especially  as  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  ought  to  be 
ashamed  to  look  him  in  the  face,  instead  of  his  being 
ashamed  to  see  them.  Which  latter  circumstance  he 
begged  Mr.  Perker  to  note,  with  a  glowing  counte- 
nance and  many  marks  of  indignation. 

'Very  well,  my  dear  sir,  very  well,'  replied  Perker, 
'I  can  only  say  that  if  you  expect  either  Dodson  or 
Fogg  to  exhibit  any  symptom  of  shame  or  confusion 
at  having  to  look  you,  or  anybody  else,  in  the  face, 
you  are  the  most  sanguine  man  in  your  expectations 
that  I  ever  met  with.  Show  them  in,  Mr.  Lowten.' 

Mr.  Lowten  disappeared  with  a  grin,  and  immedi- 
ately returned  ushering  in  the  firm,  in  due  form  of 
precedence:  Dodson  first,  and  Fogg  afterwards. 

'You  have  seen  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  believe?'  said  Perk- 
er to  Dodson,  inclining  his  pen  in  the  direction  where 
that  gentleman  was  seated. 

'How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Pickwick?'  said  Dodson  in 
a  loud  voice. 

'Dear  me,'  cried  Fogg,  'how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick? I  hope  you  are  well,  sir.  I  thought  I  knew 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  453 

the  face,'  said  Fogg,  drawing  up  a  chair,  and  looking 
round  him  with  a  smile. 

Mr.  Pickwick  bent  his  head  very  slightly,  in  an- 
swer to  these  salutations,  and,  seeing  Fogg  pull  a 
bundle  of  papers  from  his  coat-pocket,  rose  and 
walked  to  the  window. 

'There  's  no  occasion  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  move, 
Mr.  Perker,'  said  Fogg,  untying  the  red  tape  which 
encircled  the  little  bundle,  and  smiling  again  more 
sweetly  than  before.  'Mr.  Pickwick  is  pretty  well 
acquainted  with  these  proceedings.  There  are  no 
secrets  between  us,  I  think.  He!  he!  he!' 

'Xot  many,  I  think,'  said  Dodson.  'Ha!  ha!  ha!T 
Then  both  the  partners  laughed  together — pleasantly 
and  cheerfully,  as  men  who  are  going  to  receive 
money,  often  do. 

'We  shall  make  Mr.  Pickwick  pay  for  peeping,' 
said  Fogg  with  considerable  native  humour,  as  he 
unfolded  his  papers.  'The  amount  of  the  taxed  costs 
is  one  hundred  and  thirty-three,  six,  four,  Mr.  Perker.' 

There  was  a  great  comparing  of  papers,  and  turn- 
ing over  of  leaves,  by  Fogg  and  Perker,  after  this 
statement  of  profit  and  loss.  Meanwhile,  Dodson 
said  in  an  affable  manner  to  Mr.  Pickwick — 

'I  don't  think  you  are  looking  quite  so  stout  as  when 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  last,  Mr.  Pickwick.' 

'Possibly  not,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had 
been  flashing  forth  looks  of  fierce  indignation,  with- 
out producing  the  smallest  effect  on  either  of  the 
sharp  practitioners;  'I  believe  I  am  not,  sir.  I  have 
been  persecuted  and  annoyed  by  scoundrels  of  late, 
sir.' 

Perker  coughed  violently,  and  asked  Mr.  Pick- 
wick whether  he  wouldn't  like  to  look  at  the  morning 
paper?  To  which  inquiry  Mr.  Pickwick  returned  a 
most  decided  negative. 


454  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'True,'  said  Dodson,  'I  dare  say  you  have  been  an- 
noyed in  the  Fleet;  there  are  some  odd  gentry  there. 
Whereabouts  were  your  apartments,  Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'My  one  room,'  replied  that  much-injured  gentle- 
man, 'was  on  the  Coffee-room  flight.' 

'Oh,  indeed !'  said  Dodson.  'I  believe  that  is  a  very 
pleasant  part  of  the  establishment.' 

'Very,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  drily. 

There  was  a  coolness  about  all  this,  which,  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  an  excitable  temperament,  had,  under  the 
circumstances,  rather  an  exasperating  tendency.  Mr. 
Pickwick  restrained  his  wrath  by  gigantic  efforts; 
but  when  Perker  wrote  a  cheque  for  the  whole  amount, 
and  Fogg  deposited  it  in  a  small  pocket-book  with  a 
triumphant  smile  playing  over  his  pimply  features 
which  communicated  itself  likewise  to  the  stern  coun- 
tenance of  Dodson,  he  felt  the  blood  in  his  cheeks 
tingling  with  indignation. 

'Now,  Mr.  Dodson,'  said  Fogg,  putting  up  the 
pocket-book  and  drawing  on  his  gloves,  'I  am  at  you* 
service.' 

'Very  good,'  said  Dodson,  rising,  'I  am  quite  ready.' 

'I  am  very  happy,'  said  Fogg,  softened  by  the 
cheque,  'to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  making  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's acquaintance.  I  hope  you  don't  think  quite  so 
ill  of  us,  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  when  we  first  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you.' 

'I  hope  not,'  said  Dodson,  with  the  high  tone  of 
calumniated  virtue.  'Mr.  Pickwick  now  knows  us 
better,  I  trust:  whatever  your  opinion  of  gentlemen 
of  our  profession  may  be,  I  beg  to  assure  you,  sir, . 
that  I  bear  no  ill-will  or  vindictive  feeling  towards 
you  for  the  sentiments  you  thought  proper  to  express 
in  our  office  in  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill,  on  the  occa- 
sion to  which  my  partner  has  referred.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  455 

'Oh  no,  no ;  nor  I,'  said  Fogg,  in  a  most  forgiving 
manner. 

'Our  conduct,  sir,'  said  Dodson,  'will  speak  for 
itself,  and  justify  itself,  I  hope,  upon  every  occasion. 
We  have  been  in  the  profession  some  years,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, and  have  been  honoured  with  the  confidence  of 
many  excellent  clients.  I  wish  you  good  morning, 
sir.' 

'Good  morning,  Mr.  Pickwick,'  said  Fogg.  So 
saying,  he  put  his  umbrella  under  his  arm,  drew  off 
his  right  glove,  and  extended  the  hand  of  reconcilia- 
tion to  that  most  indignant  gentleman:  who,  there- 
upon, thrust  his  hands  beneath  his  coat  tails,  and  eyed 
the  attorney  with  looks  of  scornful  amazement. 

'Lowten !'  cried  Perker  at  this  moment.  'Open  the 
door.' 

'Wait  one  instant,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'Perker,  I 
'will  speak.' 

'My  dear  sir,  pray  let  the  matter  rest  where  it  is,' 
said  the  little  attorney,  who  had  been  in  a  state  of 
nervous  apprehension  during  the  whole  interview; 
'Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg!' 

'I  will  not  be  put  down,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick 
hastily.  'Mr.  Dodson,  you  have  addressed  some  re- 
marks to  me.' 

Dodson  turned  round,  bent  his  head  meekly,  and 
smiled. 

'Some  remarks  to  me,'  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick,  al- 
most breathless;  'and  your  partner  has  tendered  me 
his  hand,  and  you  have  both  assumed  a  tone  of  for- 
giveness and  high-mindedness,  which  is  an  extent  of 
impudence  that  I  was  not  prepared  for,  even  in  you.' 

'What,  sir!'  exclaimed  Dodson. 

'What,  sir !'  reiterated  Fogg. 

'Do  you  know  that  I  have  been  the  victim  of  your 


456  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

plots  and  conspiracies?'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'Do  you  know  that  I  am  the  man  whom  you  have  been 
imprisoning  and  robbing?  Do  you  know  that  you 
were  the  attorneys  for  the  plaintiff,  in  Bardell  and 
Pickwick?' 

'Yes,  sir,  we  do  know  it,'  replied  Dodson. 

'Of  course  we  know  it,  sir,'  rejoined  Fogg,  slap- 
ping his  pocket — perhaps  by  accident. 

'I  see  that  you  recollect  it  with  satisfaction,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  attempting  to  call  up  a  sneer  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  and  failing  most  signally  in  so 
doing.  'Although  I  have  long  been  anxious  to  tell 
you,  in  plain  terms,  what  my  opinion  of  you  is,  I 
should  have  let  even  this  opportunity  pass,  in  defer- 
ence to  my  friend  Perker's  wishes,  but  for  the  unwar- 
rantable tone  you  have  assumed,  and  your  insolent 
familiarity.  I  say  insolent  familiarity,  sir,'  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  turning  upon  Fogg  with  a  fierceness  of 
gesture  which  caused  that  person  to  retreat  towards 
the  door  with  great  expedition. 

'Take  care,  sir,'  said  Dodson,  who,  though  he  was 
the  biggest  man  of  the  party,  had  prudently  in- 
trenched himself  behind  Fogg,  and  was  speaking  over 
his  head  with  a  very  pale  face.  'Let  him  assault  you, 
Mr.  Fogg ;  don't  return  it  on  any  account.' 

'No,  no,  I  won't  return  it,'  said  Fogg,  falling  back 
a  little  more  as  he  spoke;  to  the  evident  relief  of  his 
partner,  who  by  these  means  was  gradually  getting 
into  the  outer  office. 

'You  are,'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  resuming  the 
thread  of  his  discourse,  'you  are  a  well-matched  pair  of 
mean,  rascally,  pettifogging  robbers.' 

'Well,'  interposed  Perker,  'is  that  all  ?' 

'It  is  all  summed  up  in  that,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pick- 
wick; 'they  are  mean,  rascally,  pettifogging  robbers.' 

'There!'  said  Perker  in  a  most  conciliatory  tone. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  457 

'My  dear  sirs,  he  has  said  all  he  has  to  say.     Now 
pray  go.     Lowten,  is  that  door  open?' 

Mr.  Lowten,  with  a  distant  giggle,  replied  in  the 
affirmative. 

'There,    there — good    morning — good    morning— 
now  pray,  my  dear  sirs, — Mr.   Lowten,  the   door!' 
cried  the  little  man,  pushing  Dodson  and  Fogg,  noth- 
ing loath,  out  of  the  office ;  'this  way,  my  dear  sirs,— 
now  pray  don't  prolong  this — dear  me — Mr.  Lowten 
—the  door,  sir — why  don't  you  attend  ?' 

'If  there  's  law  in  England,  sir,'  said  Dodson,  look- 
ing towards  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  put  on  his  hat,  'you 
shall  smart  for  this.' 

'You  are  a  couple  of  mean — ' 

'Remember,  sir,  you  pay  dearly  for  this,'  said 
Fogg. 

— Rascally,  pettifogging  robbers!'  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  taking  not  the  least  notice  of  the  threats 
that  were  addressed  to  him. 

'Robbers  I'  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  running  to  the  stair- 
head, as  the  two  attorneys  descended. 

'Robbers!'  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  breaking  from 
Lowten  and  Perker,  and  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the 
staircase  window. 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  in  his  head  again,  his 
countenance  was  smiling  and  placid;  and,  walking 
quietly  back  into  the  office,  he  declared  that  he  had 
now  removed  a  great  weight  from  his  mind,  and  that 
he  felt  perfectly  comfortable  and  happy. 

Perker  said  nothing  at  all  until  he  had  emptied 
his  snuff-box,  and  sent  Lowten  out  to  fill  it,  when  he 
was  seized  with  a  fit  of  laughing,  which  lasted  five 
minutes;  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  he  said  that 
he  supposed  he  ought  to  be  very  angry,  but  he  couldn't 
think  of  the  business  seriously  yet — when  he  could,  he 
would  be. 


458  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Well,  now,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'let  me  have  a  set- 
tlement with  you.' 

'Of  the  same  kind  as  the  last?'  inquired  Perker, 
with  another  laugh. 

'Not  exactly,'  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  drawing  out 
his  pocket-book,  and  shaking  the  little  man  heartily 
by  the  hand,  'I  only  mean  a  pecuniary  settlement. 
You  have  done  me  many  acts  of  kindness  that  I  can 
never  repay,  and  have  no  wish  to  repay,  for  I  prefer 
continuing  the  obligation.' 

With  this  preface,  the  two  friends  dived  into  some 
very  complicated  accounts  and  vouchers,  which,  hav- 
ing been  duly  displayed  and  gone  through  by  Perker, 
were  at  once  discharged  by  Mr.  Pickwick  with  many 
professions  of  esteem  and  friendship. 

They  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  this  point,  than  a 
most  violent  and  startling  knocking  was  heard  at  the 
door;  it  was  not  an  ordinary  double  knock,  but  a  con- 
stant •  and  uninterrupted  succession  of  the  loudest 
single  raps,  as  if  the  knocker  were  endowed  with  the 
perpetual  motion,  or  the  person  outside  had  forgotten 
to  leave  off. 

'Dear  me,  what 's  that?'  exclaimed  Perker,  starting. 

'I  think  it  is  a  knock  at  the  door,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
as  if  there  could  be  the  smallest  doubt  of  the  fact ! 

The  knocker  made  a  more  energetic  reply  than 
words  could  have  yielded,  for  it  continued  to  hammer 
with  surprising  force  and  noise,  without  a  moment's 
cessation. 

'Dear  me!'  said  Perker,  ringing  his  bell,  'we  shall 
alarm  the  Inn.  Mr.  Lowten,  don't  you  hear  a 
knock  ?' 

'I  '11  answer  the  door  in  one  moment,  sir,'  replied 
the  clerk. 

The  knocker  appeared  to  hear  the  response,  and  to 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  459 

assert  that  it  was  quite  impossible  he  could  wait  so 
long1.  It  made  a  stupendous  uproar. 

'It 's  quite  dreadful,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopping 
his  ears. 

'Make  haste,  Mr.  Lowten,'  Perker  called  out,  'we 
shall  have  the  panels  beaten  in.' 

Mr.  Lowten,  who  was  washing  his  hands  in  a  dark 
closet,  hurried  to  the  door,  and  turning  the  handle, 
beheld  the  appearance  which  is  described  in  the  next 
chapter. 

CHAPTER  LIV 

CONTAINING  SOME  PARTICULARS  RELATIVE  TO  THE 
DOUBLE  KNOCK,  AND  OTHER  MATTERS!  AMONG 
WHICH  CERTAIN  INTERESTING  DISCLOSURES  RELATIVE 
TO  MR.  SNODGRASS  AND  A  YOUNG  LADY  ARE  BY  NO 
MEANS  IRRELEVANT  TO  HISTORY 

THE  object  that  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  the 
astonished  clerk  was  a  boy — a  wonderfully  fat  boy- 
habited  as  a  serving  lad,  standing  upright  on  the 
mat,  with  his  eyes  closed  as  if  in  sleep.  He  had 
never  seen  such  a  fat  boy,  in  or  out  of  a  travelling 
caravan;  and  this,  coupled  with  the  calmness  and  re- 
pose of  his  appearance,  so  very  different  from  what 
was  reasonably  to  have  been  expected  of  the  inflicter 
of  such  knocks,  smote  him  with  wonder. 

'What 's  the  matter?'  inquired  the  clerk. 

The  extraordinary  boy  replied  not  a  word;  but  he 
nodded  once,  and  seemed,  to  the  clerk's  imagination, 
to  snore  feebly. 

'Where  do  you  come  from  ?'  inquired  the  clerk. 

The  boy  made  no  sign.  He  breathed  heavily,  but 
in  all  other  respects  was  motionless. 


460  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

The  clerk  repeated  the  question  thrice,  and  receiv- 
ing no  answer,  prepared  to  shut  the  door,  when  the 
boy  suddenly  opened  his  eyes,  winked  several  times, 
sneezed  once,  and  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  repeat  the 
knocking.  Finding  the  door  open,  he  stared  about 
him  with  astonishment,  and  at  length  fixed  his  eyes 
on  Mr.  Lowten's  face. 

'What  the  devil  do  you  knock  in  that  way  for?' 
inquired  the  clerk,  angrily. 

'Which  way?*  said  the  boy,  in  a  slow  and  sleepy 
voice. 

'Why,  like  forty  hackney-coachmen,'  replied  the 
clerk. 

'Because  master  said,  I  wasn't  to  leave  off  knocking 
till  they  opened  the  door,  for  fear  I  should  go  to 
sleep,'  said  the  boy. 

'Well,'  said  the  clerk,  'what  message  have  you 
brought  ?' 

'He  's  downstairs,'  rejoined  the  boy. 

'Who?' 

'Master.  He  wants  to  know  whether  you  're  at 
home.' 

Mr.  Lowten  bethought  himself,  at  this  juncture, 
of  looking  out  of  the  window.  Seeing  an  open  car- 
riage with  a  hearty  old  gentleman  in  it,  looking  up 
very  anxiously,  he  ventured  to  beckon  him;  on  which, 
the  old  gentleman  jumped  out  directly. 

'That's  your  master  in  the  carriage,  I  suppose?' 
said  Lowten. 

The  boy  nodded. 

All  further  inquiries  were  superseded  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  old  Wardle,  who,  running  upstairs  ancf 
just  recognising  Lowten,  passed  at  once  into  Mr. 
Perker's  room. 

'Pickwick!'  said  the  old  gentleman.  'Your  hand, 
my  boy!  Why  have  I  never  heard  until  the  day 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  461 

before  yesterday  of  your  suffering  yourself  to  be 
cooped  up  in  gaol?  And  why  did  you  let  him  do  it, 
Perker?' 

'I  couldn't  help  it,  my  dear  sir,'  replied  Perker,  with 
a  smile  and  a  pinch  of  snuff :  'you  know  how  obstinate 
he  is.' 

'Of  course  I  do,  of  course  I  do,'  replied  the  old 
gentleman.  'I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  him,  notwith- 
standing. I  will  not  lose  sight  of  him  again,  in  a 
hurry.' 

With  these  words,  Wardle  shook  Mr.  Pickwick's 
hand  once  more,  and  having  done  the  same  by  Perker, 
threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair;  his  jolly  red  face 
shining  again  with  smiles  and  health. 

'Well!'  said  Wardle.  'Here  are  pretty  goings  on 
—a  pinch  of  your  snuff,  Perker,  my  boy — never  were 
such  times,  eh  ?' 

'What  do  you  mean  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Mean!'  replied  Wardle.  'Why,  I  think  the  girls 
are  all  running  mad;  that's  no  news,  you'll  say. 
Perhaps  it 's  not ;  but  it 's  true,  for  all  that.' 

'You  have  not  come  up  to  London,  of  all  places  in 
the  world,  to  tell  us  that,  my  dear  sir,  have  you?'  in- 
quired Perker. 

'No,  not  altogether,'  replied  Wardle ;  'though  it  was 
the  main  cause  of  my  coming.  How  's  Arabella?' 

'Very  well,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'and  will  be  de- 
lighted to  see  you,  I  am  sure.' 

'Black-eyed  little  jilt!'  replied  Wardle,  'I  had  a 
great  idea  of  marrying  her  myself,  one  of  these  odd 
days.  But  I  am  glad  of  it  too,  very  glad.' 

'How  did  the  intelligence  reach  you?'  asked  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Oh,  it  came  to  my  girls,  of  course,'  replied  Wardle. 
'Arabella  wrote,  the  day  before  yesterday,  to  say  she 
had  made  a  stolen  match  without  her  husband's 


462  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

father's  consent,  and  so  you  had  gone  down  to  get  it 
when  his  refusing  it  couldn't  prevent  the  match,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  I  thought  it  a  very  good  time  to 
say  something  serious  to  my  girls;  so  I  said  what  a 
dreadful  thing  it  was  that  children  should  marry  with- 
out their  parents'  consent,  and  so  forth;  but,  bless 
your  hearts,  I  couldn't  make  the  least  impression  upon 
them.  They  thought  it  such  a  much  more  dreadful 
thing  that  there  should  have  been  a  wedding  without 
bridesmaids,  that  I  might  as  well  have  preached  to 
Joe  himself.' 

Here  the  old  gentleman  stopped  to  laugh;  and 
having  done  so  to  his  heart's  content,  presently  re- 
sumed. 

'But  this  is  not  the  best  of  it,  it  seems.  This  is  only 
half  the  love-making  and  plotting  that  have  been 
going  forward.  We  have  been  walking  on  mines  for 
the  last  six  months,  and  they  're  sprung  at  last.' 

'What  do  you  mean!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
turning  pale;  'no  other  secret  marriage,  I  hope?' 

'No,  no,'  replied  old  Wardle ;  'not  so  bad  as  that ;  no.' 

'What  then?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick;  'am  I  inter- 
ested in  it?' 

'Shall  I  answer  that  question,  Perker?'  said  Wardle. 

'If  you  don't  commit  yourself  by  doing  so,  my  dear 
sir.' 

'Well  then,  you  are,'  said  Wardle. 

'How?'  asked  Mr.  Pickwick  anxiously.  'In  what 
way?' 

'Really,'  replied  Wardle,  'you  're  such  a  fiery  sort 
of  young  fellow  that  I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you ; 
but,  however,  if  Perker  will  sit  between  us  to  prevenr 
mischief,  I  '11  venture.' 

Having  closed  the  room-door,  and  fortified  himself 
with  another  application  to  Perker's  snuff-box,  the 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  463 

old  gentleman  proceeded  with  his  great  disclosure  in 
these  words. 

'The  fact  is,  that  my  daughter  Bella — Bella,  who 
married  young  Trundle,  you  know.' 

'Yes,  yes,  we  know,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  impatiently. 

'Don't  alarm  me  at  the  very  beginning.  My 
daughter  Bella,  Emily  having  gone  to  bed  with  a 
headache  after  she  had  read  Arabella's  letter  to  me, 
sat  herself  down  by  my  side  the  other  evening,  and 
began  to  talk  over  this  marriage  aff air.  "Well,  pa,'* 
she  says,  "what  do  you  think  of  it?"  "Why,  my 
dear,"  I  said,  "I  suppose  it 's  all  very  well;  I  hope  it 's 
for  the  best."  I  answered  in  this  way  because  I  was 
sitting  before  the  fire  at  the  time,  drinking  my  grog 
rather  thoughtfully,  and  I  knew  my  throwing  in  an 
undecided  word  now  and  then,  would  induce  her  to 
continue  talking.  Both  my  girls  are  pictures  of  their 
dear  mother,  and  as  I  grow  old  I  like  to  sit  with  only 
them  by  me ;  for  their  voices  and  looks  carry  me  back 
to  the  happiest  period  of  my  life,  and  make  me,  for 
the  moment,  as  young  as  I  used  to  be  then,  though 
not  quite  so  light-hearted.  "It 's  quite  a  marriage  of 
affection,  pa,"  said  Bella,  after  a  short  silence.  "Yes, 
my  dear,"  said  I,  "but  such  marriages  do  not  always 
turn  out  the  happiest." 

'I  question  that,  mind!'  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick, 
warmly. 

'Very  good,'  responded  Wardle,  'question  anything 
you  like  when  it 's  your  turn  to  speak,  but  don't  inter- 
rupt me.' 

'I  beg  your  pardon,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Granted,'  replied  Wardle.  "I  am  sorry  to  hear 
you  express  your  opinion  against  marriages  of  affec- 
tion, pa,"  said  Bella,  colouring  a  little.  "I  was  wrong; 
I  ought  not  to  have  said  so,  my  dear,  either,"  said 


464  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

I,  patting  her  cheek  as  kindly  as  a  rough  old  fellow 
like  me  could  pat  it,  "for  your  mother's  was  one,  and 
so  was  yours."  "It 's  not  that,  I  meant,  pa,"  said 
Bella.  "The  fact  is,  pa,  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
about  Emily." 

Mr.  Pickwick  started. 

'What 's  the  matter  now  ?'  inquired  Wardle,  stop- 
ping in  his  narrative. 

'Nothing,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     'Pray  go  on.' 

'I  never  could  spin  out  a  story,'  said  Wardle 
abruptly.  'It  must  come  out,  sooner  or  later,  and 
it  '11  save  us  a  great  deal  of  time  if  it  comes  at  once. 
The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  then,  that  Bella  at 
l?st  mustered  up  courage  to  tell  me  that  Emily  was 
very  unhappy ;  that  she  and  your  young  friend  Snod- 
grass  had  been  in  constant  correspondence  and  com- 
munication ever  since  last  Christmas;  that  she  had 
very  dutifully  made  up  her  mind  to  run  away  with 
him,  in  laudable  imitation  of  her  old  friend  and  school- 
fellow; but  that  having  some  compunctions  of  con- 
science on  the  subject,  inasmuch  as  I  had  always  been 
rather  kindly  disposed  to  both  of  them,  they  had 
thought  it  better  in  the  first  instance  to  pay  me  the 
compliment  of  asking  whether  I  would  have  any  ob- 
jection to  their  being  married  in  the  usual  matter-of- 
fact  manner.  There  now,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  you  can 
make  it  convenient  to  reduce  your  eyes  to  their  usual 
size  again,  and  to  let  me  hear  what  you  think  we  ought 
to  do,  I  shall  feel  rather  obliged  to  you !' 

The  testy  manner  in  which  the  hearty  old  gentle- 
man uttered  this  last  sentence  was  not  wholly  unwar- 
ranted ;  for  Mr.  Pickwick's  face  had  settled  down  into 
an  expression  of  blank  amazement  and  perplexity, 
quite  curious  to  behold. 

'Snodgrass!     Since  last  Christmas!'  were  the  first 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  465 

broken  words  that  issued  from  the  lips  of  the  con- 
founded gentleman. 

'Since  last  Christmas,'  replied  Wardle;  'that 's  plain 
enough,  and  very  bad  spectacles  we  must  have  worn 
not  to  have  discovered  it  before.' 

'I  don't  understand  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rumi- 
nating; 'I  really  cannot  understand  it.' 

'It 's  easy  enough  to  understand,'  replied  the 
choleric  old  gentleman.  'If  you  had  been  a  younger 
n.an,  you  would  have  been  in  the  secret  long  ago ;  and 
besides,'  added  Wardle  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
'the  truth  is,  that,  knowing  nothing  of  this  matter,  I 
have  rather  pressed  Emily  for  four  or  five  months 
past,  to  receive  favourably  (if  she  could;  I  would 
never  attempt  to  force  a  girl's  inclinations)  the  ad- 
dresses of  a  young  gentleman  down  in  our  neighbour- 
hood. I  have  no  doubt  that,  girl-like,  to  enhance  her 
own  value  and  increase  the  ardour  of  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
she  has  represented  this  matter  in  very  glowing  col- 
ours, and  that  they  have  both  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  they  are  a  terribly  persecuted  pair  of  unfortu- 
nates, and  have  no  resource  but  clandestine  matrimony 
or  charcoal.  Now  the  question  is,  what 's  to  be  done  ?' 

'What  have  you  done  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I!' 

'I  mean  what  did  you  do  when  your  married  daugh- 
ter told  you  this  ?' 

'Oh,  I  made  a  fool  of  myself,  of  course,'  rejoined 
Wardle. 

'Just  so,'  interposed  Perker,  who  had  accompanied 
this  dialogue  with  sundry  twitchings  of  his  watch- 
chain,  vindictive  rubbings  of  his  nose,  and  other  symp- 
toms of  impatience.  'That 's  very  natural;  but  how?' 

'I  went  into  a  great  passion  and  frightened  my 
mother  into  a  fit,'  said  Wardle. 


466 

'That  was  judicious,'  remarked  Perker;  'and  what 
else?' 

'I  fretted  and  fumed  all  next  day,  and  raised  a 
great  disturbance,'  rejoined  the  old  gentleman.  'At 
last  I  got  tired  of  rendering  myself  unpleasant  and 
making  everybody  miserable;  so  I  hired  a  carriage  at 
Muggleton,  and,  putting  my  own  horses  in  it,  came 
up  to  town,  under  pretence  of  bringing  Emily  to  see 
Arabella.' 

'Miss  Wardle  is  with  you,  then?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'To  be  sure  she  is,'  replied  Wardle.  'She  is  at 
Osborne's  Hotel  in  the  Adelphi  at  this  moment,  unless 
your  enterprising  friend  has  run  away  with  her  since 
I  came  out  this  morning.' 

'You  are  reconciled,  then?'  said  Perker. 

'Not  a  bit  of  it,'  answered  Wardle;  'she  has  been 
crying  and  moping  ever  since,  except  last  night,  be- 
tween tea  and  supper,  when  she  made  a  great  parade 
of  writing  a  letter  that  I  pretended  to  take  no  notice 
of.' 

'You  want  my  advice  in  this  matter,  I  suppose?' 
said  Perker,  looking  from  the  musing  face  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  to  the  eager  countenance  of  Wardle,  and 
taking  several  consecutive  pinches  of  his  favourite 
stimulant. 

'I  suppose  so,'  said  Wardle,  looking  at  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

'Certainly,'  replied  that  gentleman. 

'Well  then,'  said  Perker,  rising  and  pushing  his 
chair  back,  'my  advice  is,  that  you  both  walk  away 
together,  or  ride  away,  or  get  away  by  some  means  or 
other,  for  I  'm  tired  of  you,  and  just  talk  this  matter 
over  between  you.  If  you  have  not  settled  it  by  the 
next  time  I  see  you,  I  '11  tell  you  what  to  do.' 

'This  is  satisfactory,'  said  Wardle,  hardly  knowing 
whether  to  smile  or  be  offended. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  467 

'Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  sir,'  returned  Perker.  'I 
know  you  both  a  great  deal  better  than  you  know 
yourselves.  You  have  settled  it  already,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes.' 

Thus  expressing  himself,  the  little  gentleman  poked 
his  snuff-box,  first  into  the  chest  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
then  into  the  waistcoat  of  Mr.  Wardle,  upon  which 
they  all  three  laughed,  but  especially  the  two  last- 
named  gentlemen,  who  at  once  shook  hands  again, 
without  any  obvious  or  particular  reason. 

'You  dine  with  me  to-day,'  said  Wardle  to  Perker, 
as  he  showed  them  out. 

'Can't  promise,  my  dear  sir,  can't  promise,'  replied 
Perker.  'I  '11  look  in,  in  the  evening,  at  all  events.' 

'I  shall  expect  you  at  five,'  said  Wardle.  'Now, 
Joe !'  And  Joe  having  been  at  length  awakened,  the 
two  friends  departed  in  Mr.  Wardle's  carriage,  which 
in  common  humanity  had  a  dickey  behind  for  the  fat 
boy,  who,  if  there  had  been  a  foot-board  instead,  would 
have  rolled  off  and  killed  himself  in  his  very  first  nap. 

Driving  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  they  found 
that  Arabella  and  her  maid  had  sent  for  a  hackney- 
coach  immediately  on  the  receipt  of  a  short  note  from 
Emily  announcing  her  arrival  in  town,  and  had  pro- 
ceeded straight  to  the  Adelphi.  As  Wardle  had  busi- 
ness to  transact  in  the  City,  they  sent  the  carriage  and 
the  fat  boy  to  his  hotel,  with  the  information  that  he 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  would  return  together  to  dinner  at 
five  o'clock. 

Charged  with  this  message,  the  fat  boy  returned, 
slumbering  as  peaceably  in  his  dickey,  over  the  stones, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  down  bed  on  watch-springs.  By 
some  extraordinary  miracle  he  awoke  of  his  own  ac- 
cord, when  the  coach  stopped,  and  giving  himself  a 
good  shake  to  stir  up  his  faculties,  went  upstairs  to 
execute  his  commission. 


468  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Now,  whether  the  shake  had  jumbled  the  fat  boy's 
faculties  together,  instead  of  arranging  them  in 
proper  order,  or  had  roused  such  a  quantity  of  new 
ideas  within  him  as  to  render  him  oblivious  of  ordinary 
forms  and  ceremonies,  or  (which  is  also  possible)  had 
proved  unsuccessful  in  preventing  his  falling  asleep 
as  he  ascended  the  stairs,  it  is  an  undoubted  fact  that 
he  walked  into  the  sitting-room  without  previously 
knocking  at  the  door ;  and  so  beheld  a  gentleman  with 
his  arms  clasping  his  young  mistress's  waist,  sitting 
very  lovingly  by  her  side  on  a  sofa,  while  Arabella 
and  her  pretty  handmaid  feigned  to  be  absorbed  in 
looking  out  of  a  window  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 
At  sight  of  this  phenomenon,  the  fat  boy  uttered  an 
interjection,  the  ladies  a  scream,  and  the  gentleman 
an  oath,  almost  simultaneously. 

'Wretched  creature,  what  do  you  want  here?'  said 
the  gentleman,  who  it  is  needless  to  say  was  Mr.  Snod- 
grass. 

To  this  the  fat  boy,  considerably  terrified,  briefly 
responded,  'Missis.' 

'What  do  you  want  me  for?'  inquired  Emily,  turn- 
ing her  head  aside,  'you  stupid  creature !' 

'Master  and  Mr.  Pickwick  is  a  going  to  dine  here 
at  five,'  replied  the  fat  boy. 

'Leave  the  room,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  glaring  upon 
the  bewildered  youth. 

'No,  no,  no,'  added  Emily  hastily.  'Bella,  dear,  ad- 
vise me.' 

Upon  this,  Emily  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Arabella 
and  Mary,  crowded  into  a  corner,  and  conversed 
earnestly  in  whispers  for  some  minutes,  during  which 
the  fat  boy  dozed. 

'Joe,'  said  Arabella,  at  length,  looking  round  with 
a  most  bewitching  smile,  'how  do  you  do,  Joe  ?' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  469 

4 Joe,'  said  Emily,  'you  're  a  very  good  boy ;  I  won't 
forget  you,  Joe.' 

'Joe,'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  advancing  to  the  aston- 
ished youth,  and  seizing  his  hand,  'I  didn't  know  you 
before.  There  's  five  shillings  for  you,  Joe !' 

'I  '11  owe  you  five,  Joe,'  said  Arabella,  'for  old  ac- 
quaintance' sake  you  know';  and  another  most  capti- 
vating smile  was  bestowed  upon  the  corpulent  in- 
truder. 

The  fat  boy's  perception  being  slow,  he  looked 
rather  puzzled  at  first  to  account  for  this  sudden  pre- 
possession in  his  favour,  and  stared  about  him  in  a 
very  alarming  manner.  At  length  his  broad  face  be- 
gan to  show  symptoms  of  a  grin  of  proportionately 
broad  dimensions;  and  then,  thrusting  half-a-crown 
into  each  of  his  pockets,  and  a  hand  and  wrist  after  it, 
he  burst  into  a  horse  laugh:  being  for  the  first  and 
only  time  in  his  existence. 

'He  understands  us,  I  see,'  said  Arabella. 

'He  had  better  have  something  to  eat  immediately,' 
remarked  Emily. 

The  fat  boy  almost  laughed  again  when  he  heard 
this  suggestion.  Mary,  after  a  little  more  whisper- 
ing, tripped  forth  from  the  group,  and  said — 

'I  am  going  to  dine  with  you  to-day,  sir,  if  you 
have  no  objection.' 

'This  way,'  said  the  fat  boy,  eagerly.  'There  is 
such  a  jolly  meat  pie!' 

With  these  words,  the  fat  boy  led  the  way  down- 
stairs ;  his  pretty  companion  captivating  all  the  waiters 
and  angering  all  the  chambermaids  as  she  followed 
him  to  the  eating-room. 

There  was  the  meat-pie  of  which  the  youth  had 
spoken  so  feelingly,  and  there  were,  moreover,  a 
steak,  and  a  dish  of  potatoes,  and  a  pot  of  porter. 


470 

'Sit  down,'  said  the  fat  boy.  'Oh,  my  eye,  how 
prime!  I  am  so  hungry.' 

Having  apostrophised  his  eye,  in  a  species  of  rap- 
ture, five  or  six  times,  the  youth  took  the  head  of  the 
little  table,  and  Mary  seated  herself  at  the  bottom. 

'Will  you  have  some  of  this?'  said  the  fat  boy, 
plunging  into  the  pie  up  to  the  very  ferules  of  the 
knife  and  fork. 

'A  little,  if  you  please,'  replied  Mary. 

The  fat  boy  assisted  Mary  to  a  little,  and  himself 
to  a  great  deal,  and  was  just  going  to  begin  eating 
when  he  suddenly  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  leant 
forward  in  his  chair,  and  letting  his  hands,  with  the 
knife  and  fork  in  them,  fall  on  his  knees,  said,  very 
slowly — 

'I  say!     How  nice  you  look!' 

This  was  said  in  an  admiring  manner,  and  was,  so 
far,  gratifying;  but  still  there  was  enough  of  the 
cannibal  in  the  young  gentleman's  eyes  to  render  the 
compliment  a  double  one. 

'Dear  me,  Joseph,'  said  Mary,  affecting  to  blush, 
'what  do  you  mean?' 

The  fat  boy  gradually  recovering  his  former  po- 
sition, replied  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  remaining 
thoughtful  for  a  few  moments,  drank  a  long  draught 
of  the  porter.  Having  achieved  this  feat,  he  sighed 
again,  and  applied  himself  assiduously  to  the  pie. 

'What  a  nice  young  lady  Miss  Emily  is !'  said  Mary, 
after  a  long  silence. 

The  fat  boy  had  by  this  time  finished  the  pie.  He 
fixed  his  eyes  on  Mary,  and  replied — 

'I  knows  a  nicerer.' 

'Indeed!'  said  Mary. 

'Yes,  indeed!'  replied  the  fat  boy,  with  unwonted 
vivacity. 

'What 's  her  name  ?'  inquired  Mary. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  471 

'What's  yours?' 

'Mary.' 

'So  's  hers,'  said  the  fat  boy.  'You  're  her.'  The 
boy  grinned  to  add  point  to  the  compliment,  and  put 
his  eyes  into  something  between  a  squint  and  a  cast, 
which  there  is  reason  to  believe  he  intended  for  an 
ogle. 

'You  mustn't  talk  to  me  in  that  way/  said  Mary; 
'you  don't  mean  it.' 

'Don't  I  though?'  replied  the  fat  boy.     'I  say!' 

'Well.' 

'Are  you  going  to  come  here  regular  ?' 

'No,'  rejoined  Mary,  shaking  her  head,  'I  'm  going 
away  again  to-night.  Why?' 

'Oh!'  said  the  fat  boy  in  a  tone  of  strong  feeling; 
'how  we  should  have  enjoyed  ourselves  at  meals,  if 
you  had  been!' 

'I  might  come  here  sometimes  perhaps,  to  see  you,' 
said  Mary,  plaiting  the  table-cloth  in  assumed  coyness, 
'if  you  would  do  me  a  favour.' 

The  fat  boy  looked  from  the  pie-dish  to  the  steak, 
as  if  he  thought  a  favour  must  be  in  a  manner  con- 
nected with  something  to  eat;  and  then  took  out  one 
of  the  half-crowns  and  glanced  at  it  nervously. 

'Don't  you  understand  me?'  said  Mary,  looking 
slyly  into  his  fat  face. 

Again  he  looked  at  the  half-crown,  and  said  faintly, 
'No.' 

'The  ladies  want  you  not  to  say  anything  to  the  old 
gentleman  about  the  young  gentleman  having  been 
upstairs;  and  I  want  you  too.' 

'Is  that  all?'  said  the  fat  boy,  evidently  very  much 
relieved  as  he  pocketed  the  half-crown  again.  'Of 
course  I  ain't  a  going  to.' 

'You  see,'  said  Mary,  'Mr.  Snodgrass  is  very  fond 
of  Miss  Emily,  and  Miss  Emily  's  very  fond  of  him, 


472  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

and  if  you  were  to  tell  about  it,  the  old  gentleman 
would  carry  you  all  away  miles  into  the  country,  where 
you  'd  see  nobody.' 

'No,  no,  I  won't  tell,'  said  the  fat  boy,  stoutly. 

'That 's  a  dear,'  said  Mary.  'Now  it 's  time  I  went 
upstairs,  and  got  my  lady  ready  for  dinner.' 

'Don't  go  yet,'  urged  the  fat  boy. 

'I  must,'  replied  Mary.  'Good-bye,  for  the  pres- 
ent.' 

The  fat  boy,  with  elephantine  playfulness,  stretched 
out  his  arms  to  ravish  a  kiss;  but  as  it  required  no 
great  agility  to  elude  him,  his  fair  enslaver  had  van- 
ished before  he  closed  them  again;  upon  which  the 
apathetic  youth  ate  a  pound  or  so  of  steak  with  a  senti- 
mental countenance,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

There  was  so  much  to  say  upstairs,  and  there  were 
so  many  plans  to  concert  for  elopement  and  matri- 
mony in  the  event  of  old  Wardle  continuing  to  be 
cruel,  that  it  wanted  only  half  an  hour  of  dinner  when 
Mr.  Snodgrass  took  his  final  adieu.  The  ladies  ran 
to  Emily's  bedroom  to  dress,  and  the  lover  taking  up 
his  hat,  walked  out  of  the  room.  He  had  scarcely 
got  outside  the  door,  when  he  heard  Wardle's  voice 
talking  loudly,  and  looking  over  the  banisters,  beheld 
him,  followed  by  some  other  gentlemen,  coming 
straight  upstairs.  Knowing  nothing  of  the  house, 
Mr.  Snodgrass  in  his  confusion  stepped  hastily  back 
into  the  room  he  had  just  quitted,  and  passing  from 
thence  into  an  inner  apartment  (Mr.  Wardle's  bed- 
chamber), closed  the  door  softly,  just  as  the  persons 
he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of,  entered  the  sitting-room. 
These  were  Mr.  Wardle,  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr.  Na- 
thaniel Winkle,  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  whom  he 
had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  by  their  voices. 

'Very  lucky  I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  avoid 
them,'  thought  Mr.  Snodgrass  with  a  smile,  and  walk- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  473 

ing  on  tip-toe  to  another  door  near  the  bedside;  'this 
opens  into  the  same  passage,  and  I  can  walk,  quietly 
and  comfortably,  away.' 

There  was  only  one  obstacle  to  his  walking  quietly 
and  comfortably  away,  which  was  that  the  door  was 
locked  and  the  key  gone. 

'Let  us  have  some  of  your  best  wine  to-day,  waiter/ 
said  old  Wardle,  rubbing  his  hands. 

'You  shall  have  some  of  the  very  best,  sir,'  replied 
the  waiter, 

'Let  the  ladies  know  we  have  come  in.' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

Devoutly  and  ardently  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  wish  that 
the  ladies  could  know  he  had  come  in.  He  ventured 
once  to  whisper  'Waiter!'  through  the  keyhole,  but  as 
the  probability  of  the  wrong  waiter  coming  to  his 
relief,  flashed  upon  his  mind,  together  with  a  sense 
of  the  strong  resemblance  between  his  own  situation 
and  that  in  which  another  gentleman  had  been 
recently  found  in  a  neighbouring  hotel  (an  account 
of  whose  misfortunes  had  appeared  under  the  head 
of  'Police'  in  that  morning's  paper),  he  sat  himself 
on  a  portmanteau,  and  trembled  violently. 

'We  won't  wait  a  minute  for  Perker,'  said  Wardle, 
looking  at  his  watch ;  'he  is  ajways  exact.  He  will  be 
here,  in  time,  if  he  means  to  come;  and  if  he  does 
not,  it 's  of  no  use  waiting.  Ha!  Arabella!' 

'My  sister!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  fold- 
ing her  in  a  most  romantic  embrace. 

'Oh,  Ben,  dear,  how  you  do  smell  of  tobacco,'  said 
Arabella,  rather  overcome  by  this  mark  of  affection. 

'Do  I?'  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  'do  I,  Bella? 
Well,  perhaps  I  do.' 

Perhaps  he  did;  having  just  left  a  pleasant  little 
smoking  party  of  twelve  medical  students  in  a  small 
back-parlour  with  a  large  nre. 


474  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'But  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,'  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 
'Bless  you,  Bella!' 

'There,'  said  Arabella,  bending  forward  to  kiss  her 
brother;  'don't  take  hold  of  me  again,  Ben  dear,  be- 
cause you  tumble  me  so.' 

At  this  point  of  the  reconciliation,  Mr.  Ben  Allen 
allowed  his  feelings  and  the  cigars  and  porter  to  over- 
come him,  and  looked  round  upon  the  beholders  with 
damp  spectacles. 

'Is  nothing  to  be  said  to  me?'  cried  Wardle  with 
open  arms. 

'A  great  deal/  whispered  Arabella,  as  she  received 
the  old  gentleman's  hearty  caress  and  congratulation. 
'You  are  a  hard-hearted,  unfeeling,  cruel  monster!' 

'You  are  a  little  rebel,'  replied  Wardle,  in  the  same 
tone,  'and  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  obliged  to  forbid  you 
the  house.  People  like  you,  who  get  married  in  spite 
of  everybody,  ought  not  to  be  let  loose  on  society. 
But  come!'  added  the  old  gentleman  aloud.  'Here  's 
the  dinner;  you  shall  sit  by  me.  Joe!  Why,  damn 
the  boy,  he  's  awake !' 

To  the  great  distress  of  his  master,  the  fat  boy  was 
indeed  in  a  state  of  remarkable  vigilance;  his  eyes 
being  wide  open,  and  looking  as  if  they  intended  to 
remain  so.  There  was  an  alacrity  in  his  manner,  too, 
which  was  equally  unaccountable;  every  time  his  eyes 
met  those  of  Emily  or  Arabella,  he  smirked  and 
grinned;  once  Wardle  could  have  sworn  he  saw  him 
wink. 

This  alteration  in  the  fat  boy's  demeanour,  origi- 
nated in  his  increased  sense  of  his  own  importance, 
and  the  dignity  he  acquired  from  having  been  taken 
into  the  confidence  of  the  young  ladies;  and  the 
smirks,  and  grins,  and  winks,  were  so  many  con- 
descending assurances  that  they  might  depend  upon 
his  fidelity.  As  these  tokens  were  rather  calculated 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  475 

to  awaken  suspicion  than  allay  it,  and  were  somewhat 
embarrassing  besides,  they  were  occasionally  answered 
by  a  frown  or  shake  of  the  head  from  Arabella,  which 
the  fat  boy  considering  as  hints  to  be  on  his  guard, 
expressed  his  perfect  understanding  of,  by  smirking, 
grinning,  and  winking,  with  redoubled  assiduity. 

'Joe,'  said  Mr.  Wardle,  after  an  unsuccessful  search 
in  all  his  pockets,  'is  my  snuff-box  on  the  sofa?' 

'Xo,  sir,'  replied  the  fat  boy. 

'Oh,  I  recollect;  I  left  it  on  my  dressing-table  this 
morning,'  said  Wardle.  'Run  into  the  next  room  and 
fetch  it.' 

The  fat  boy  went  into  the  next  room;  and  having 
been  absent  about  a  minute,  returned  with  the  snuff- 
box and  the  palest  face  that  ever  a  fat  boy  wore. 

'What 's  the  matter  with  the  boy !'  exclaimed 
Wardle. 

'Xothen  's  the  matter  with  me,'  replied  Joe,  nerv- 
ously. 

'Have  you  been  seeing  any  spirits?'  inquired  the 
old  gentleman. 

'Or  taking  any?'  added  Ben  Allen. 

'I  think  you're  right,'  whispered  Wardle  across  the 
table.  'He  is  intoxicated,  I'm  sure.' 

Ben  Allen  replied  that  he  thought  he  was;  and  as 
that  gentleman  had  seen  a  vast  deal  of  the  disease  in 
question,  Wardle  was  confirmed  in  an  impression 
which  had  been  hovering  about  his  mind  for  half  an 
hour,  and  at  once  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
fat  boy  was  drunk. 

'Just  keep  your  eye  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes,' 
murmured  Wardle.  'We  shall  soon  find  out  whether 
he  is  or  not.' 

The  unfortunate  youth  had  only  interchanged  a 
dozen  words  with  Mr.  Snodgrass:  that  gentleman 
having  implored  him  to  make  a  private  appeal  to  some 


476  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

friend  to  release  him,  and  then  pushed  him  out  with 
the  snuff-box,  lest  his  prolonged  absence  should  lead  to 
a  discovery.  He  ruminated  a  little  with  a  most  dis- 
turbed expression  of  face,  and  left  the  room  in  search 
of  Mary. 

But  Mary  had  gone  home  after  dressing  her  mis- 
tress, and  the  fat  boy  came  back  again  more  disturbed 
than  before. 

Wardle  and  Mr.  Ben  Alien  exchanged  glances. 

'Joe !'  said  Wardle. 

'Yes,  sir/ 

'What  did  you  go  away  for?' 

The  fat  boy  looked  hopelessly  in  the  face  of  every- 
body at  table,  and  stammered  out,  that  he  didn't  know. 

'Oh,'  said  Wardle,  'you  don't  know,  eh?  Take  this 
cheese  to  Mr.  Pickwick.' 

Now,  Mr.  Pickwick  being  in  the  very  best  health 
and  spirits,  had  been  making  himself  perfectly  de- 
lightful all  dinner-time,  and  was  at  this  moment  en- 
gaged in  an  energetic  conversation  with  Emily  and 
Mr.  Winkle :  bowing  his  head,  courteously,  in  the  em- 
phasis of  his  discourse,  gently  waving  his  left  hand 
.  to  lend  force  to  his  observations,  and  all  glowing 
with  placid  smiles.  He  took  a  piece  of  cheese  from 
the  plate,  and  was  on  the  point  of  turning  round  to 
renew  the  conversation,  when  the  fat  boy,  stooping  so 
as  to  bring  his  head  on  a  level  with  that  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, pointed  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder,  and 
made  the  most  horrible  and  hideous  face  that  was 
ever  seen  out  of  a  Christmas  pantomime. 

'Dear  me!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting,  'what  a 
very —  Eh?'  He  stopped,  for  the  fat  boy  had 
drawn  himself  up,  and  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  fast 
asleep. 

'What 's  the  matter?'  inquired  Wardle. 

'This  is  such  an  extremely  singular  lad!'  replied 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  477 

Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  uneasily  at  the  boy.  'It  seems 
an  odd  thing  to  say,  but  upon  my  word  I  am  afraid 
that,  at  times,  he  is  a  little  deranged.' 

'Oh!  Mr.  Pickwick,  pray  don't  say  so,'  cried  Emily 
and  Arabella,  both  at  once. 

'I  am  not  certain,  of  course,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
amidst  profound  silence,  and  looks  of  general  dismay ; 
'but  his  manner  to  me  this  moment  was  really  very 
alarming.  Oh!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly 
jumping  up  with  a  short  scream.  'I  beg  your  par- 
don, ladies,  but  at  that  moment  he  ran  some  sharp  in- 
strument into  my  leg.  Really  he  is  not  safe.' 

'He's  drunk,'  roared  old  Wardle,  passionately. 
'Ring  the  bell!  Call  the  waiters!  He's  drunk.' 

'I  ain't,'  said  the  fat  boy,  falling  on  his  knees  as 
his  master  seized  him  by  the  collar.  'I  ain't  drunk.' 

'Then  you  're  mad;  that 's  worse.  Call  the  waiters,' 
said  the  old  gentleman. 

'I  ain't  mad;  I  'm  sensible,'  rejoined  the  fat  boy, 
beginning  to  cry. 

'Then,  what  the  devil  do  you  run  sharp  instru- 
ments into  Mr.  Pickwick's  legs  for?'  inquired  Wardle, 
angrily. 

'He  wouldn't  look  at  me,'  replied  the  boy.  'I 
wanted  to  speak  to  him.' 

'What  did  you  want  to  say?'  asked  half  a  dozen 
voices  at  once. 

The  fat  boy  gasped,  looked  at  the  bedroom  door, 
gasped  again,  and  wiped  two  tears  away  with  the 
knuckle  of  each  of  his  forefingers. 

'What  did  you  want  to  say?'  demanded  Wardle 
shaking  him. 

'Stop!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  'allow  me.  What  did 
you  wish  to  communicate  to  me,  my  poor  boy?' 

'I  want  to  whisper  to  you,'  replied  the  fat  boy. 

'You  want  to  bite  his  ear  off.   I   suppose,'   said 


478 

Wardle.  'Don't  come  near  him;  he's  vicious ;  ring  the 
bell,  and  let  him  be  taken  downstairs.' 

Just  as  Mr.  Winkle  caught  the  bell-rope  in  his  hand, 
it.  was  arrested  by  a  general  expression  of  astonish- 
ment; the  captive  lover,  his  face  burning  with  con- 
fusion, suddenly  walked  in  from  the  bedroom,  and 
made  a  comprehensive  bow  to  the  company. 

'Hallo!'  cried  Wardle,  releasing  the  fat  boy's  col- 
lar, and  staggering  back.  'What 's  this !' 

'I  have  been  concealed  in  the  next  room,  sir,  since 
you  returned,'  explained  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'Emily,  my  girl,'  said  Wardle,  reproachfully,  'I  de- 
test meanness  and  deceit:  this  is  unjustifiable  and  in- 
delicate in  the  highest  degree.  I  don't  deserve  this  at 
your  hands,  Emily,  indeed !' 

'Dear  papa,'  said  Emily,  'Arabella  knows — every- 
body here  knows — Joe  knows — that  I  was  no  party  to 
this  concealment.  Augustus,  for  Heaven's  sake,  ex- 
plain it!' 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  had  only  waited  for  a  hearing, 
at  once  recounted  how  he  had  been  placed  in  his  then 
distressing  predicament;  how  the  fear  of  giving  rise 
to  domestic  dissensions-  had  alone  prompted  him  to 
avoid  Mr.  Wardle  on  his  entrance;  how  he  merely 
meant  to  depart  by  another  door,  but  finding  it  locked, 
had  been  compelled  to  stay  against  his  will.  It  was 
a  painful  situation  to  be  placed  in;  but  he  now  re- 
gretted it  the  less,  inasmuch  as  it  afforded  him  an  op- 
portunity of  acknowledging,  before  their  mutual 
friends,  that  he  loved  Mr.  Wardle's  daughter,  deeply 
and  sincerely ;  that  he  was  proud  to  avo\v  that  the  feel- 
ing was  mutual;  and  that  if  thousands  of  miles  were 
placed  between  them,  or  oceans  rolled  their  waters,  he 
could  never  for  an  instant  forget  those  happy  days, 
when  first — and  so  on. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  479 

Having  delivered  himself  to  this  effect,  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  bowed  again,  looked  into  the  crown  of  his  hat, 
and  stepped  towards  the  door. 

'Stop!'  shouted  Wardle.  'Why,  in  the  name  of  all 
that 's— 

'Inflammable,'  mildly  suggested  Mr.  Pickwick,  who 
thought  something  worse  was  coming. 

'Well — that 's  inflammable,'  said  Wardle,  adopting 
the  substitute;  'couldn't  you  say  all  this  to  me  in  the 
first  instance?' 

'Or  confide  in  me,'  added  Mr.  Pickwick 

'Dear,  dear,'  said  Arabella,  taking  up  the  defence, 
'what  is  the  use  of  asking  all  that  now,  especially 
when  you  know  you  had  set  your  covetous  old  heart 
on  a  richer  son-in-law,  and  are  so  wild  and  fierce  be- 
sides, that  everybody  is  afraid  of  you,  except  me. 
Shake  hands  with  him,  and  order  him  some  dinner,  for 
goodness  gracious  sake,  for  he  looks  half-starved ;  and 
pray  have  your  wine  up  at  once,  for  you  '11  not  be 
tolerable  until  you  have  taken  two  bottles  at  least.' 

The  worthy  old  gentleman  pulled  Arabella's  ear, 
kissed  her  without  the  smallest  scruple,  kissed  his 
daughter  also  with  great  affection,  and  shook  Mr. 
Snodgrass  warmly  by  the  hand. 

'She  is  right  on  one  point,  at  all  events,'  said  the 
old  gentleman,  cheerfully.  'Ring  for  the  wine!' 

The  wine  came,  and  Perker  came  upstairs  at  the 
same  moment.  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  dinner  at  a  side 
table,  and,  when  he  had  despatched  it,  drew  his  chair 
next  Emily,  without  the  smallest  opposition  on  the 
old  gentleman's  part. 

The  evening  was  excellent.  Little  Mr.  Perker 
came  out  wonderfully,  told  various  comic  stories,  and 
sang  a  serious  song,  which  was  almost  as  funny  as  the 
anecdotes.  Arabella  was  very  charming,  Mr.  Wardle 


480  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

very  jovial,  Mr.  Pickwick  very  harmonious,  Mr.  Ben 
Allen  very  uproarious,  the  lovers  very  silent,  Mr. 
Winkle  very  talkative,  and  all  of  them  very  happy. 


CHAPTER  LV 

MR.  SOLOMON  PELL,  ASSISTED  BY  A  SELECT  COMMITTEE 
OF  COACHMEN,  ARRANGES  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  THE 
ELDER  MR.  WELLER. 

'SAMIVEL/  said  Mr.  Weller,  accosting  his  son  on  the 
morning  after  the  funeral,  'I  've  found  it,  Sammy.  I 
thought  it  wos  there.' 

'Thought  wot  wos  where?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Your  mother-in-law's  vill,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr. 
Weller.  'In  wirtue  o'  vich,  them  arrangements  is  to 
be  made  as  I  told  you  on,  last  night,  respectin'  the 
funs/ 

'Wot,  didn't  she  tell  you  where  it  was?'  inquired 
Sam. 

'Not  a  bit  on  it,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'We 
wos  a  adjestin'  our  little  differences,  and  I  wos  a  cheer- 
in'  her  spirits  and  bearin'  her  up,  so  that  I  forgot  to 
ask  anythin'  about  it.  I  don't  know  as  I  should  ha' 
done  it  indeed,  if  I  had  remembered  it,'  added  Mr. 
Weller,  'for  it 's  a  rum  sort  o'  thing,  Sammy,  to  go 
a  hankerin'  arter  anybody's  property,  ven  you  're  as- 
sistin'  'em  in  illness.  It 's  like  helping  an  outside 
passenger  up,  ven  he  's  been  pitched  off  a  coach,  and 
puttin'  your  hand  in  his  pocket,  vile  you  ask  him  vith 
a  sigh  how  he  finds  his-self,  Sammy.' 

With  this  figurative  illustration  of  his  meaning, 
Mr.  Weller  unclasped  his  pocket-book,  and  drew  forth 
a  dirty  sheet  of  letter-paper,  on  which  were  inscribed 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  481 

various  characters  crowded  together  in  remarkable 
confusion. 

'This  here  is  the  dockyment,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Wel- 
ler.  'I  found  it  in  the  little  black  teapot,  on  the  top 
shelf  o'  the  bar  closet.  She  used  to  keep  bank-notes 
there,  afore  she  vos  married,  Samivel.  I've  seen  her 
take  the  lid  off,  to  pay  a  bill,  many  and  many  a  time. 
Poor  creeter,  she  might  ha'  filled  all  the  teapots  in  the 
house  vith  vills,  and  not  have  inconwenienced  herself 
neither,  for  she  took  wery  little  of  anythin'  in  that 
vay  lately,  'cept  on  the  Temperance  nights,  ven  they 
just  laid  a  foundation  o'  tea  to  put  the  spirits  atop  on!' 

'What  does  it  say?'  inquired  Sam. 

'Jist  vot  I  told  you,  my  boy,'  rejoined  his  parent. 
'Two  hundred  pound  vurth  o'  reduced  counsels  to  my 
son-in-law,  Samivel,  and  all  the  rest  o'  my  property,  of 
ev'ry  kind  and  description  votsoever  to  my  husband, 
Mr.  Tony  Veller,  who  I  appint  as  my  sole  eggzek- 
iter.' 

'That's  all,  is  it?'  said  Sam. 

'That 's  all,'  replied  Mr.  Weller.  'And  I  s'pose  as 
it's  all  right  and  satisfactory  to  you  and  me  as  is  the 
only  parties  interested,  ve  may  as  veil  put  this  bit  o' 
paper  into  the  fire.' 

'Wot  are  you  a  doin'  on,  you  lunatic?'  said  Sam, 
snatching  the  paper  away,  as  his  parent,  in  all  inno- 
cence, stirred  the  fire  preparatory  to  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word.  'You  're  a  nice  eggzekiter,  you  are.' 

'Vy  not?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  looking  sternly 
round,  with  the  poker  in  his  hand. 

' Vy  not !'  exclaimed  Sam.  '  'Cos  it  must  be  proved, 
and  probated,  and  swore  to,  and  all  manner  o'  for- 
malities.' 

'You  don't  mean  that?'  said  Mr.  Weller,  laying 
down  the  poker. 


482  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Sam  buttoned  the  will  carefully  in  a  side  pocket; 
intimating  by  a  look,  meanwhile,  that  he  did  mean  it, 
and  very  seriously  too. 

Then  I  '11  tell  you  wot  it  is,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  after 
a  short  meditation,  'this  is  a  case  for  that  'ere  con- 
fidential pal  o'  Chancellorship's.  Pell  must  look  into 
this,  Sammy.  He  's  the  man  for  a  difficult  question 
at  law.  Ve  '11  have  this  here  brought  afore  the  Solvent 
Court  directly,  Samivel.' 

'I  never  did  see  such  a  addle-headed  old  creetur!' 
exclaimed  Sam,  irritably,  'Old  Baileys,  and  Solvent 
Courts,  and  alleybis,  'and  ev'ry  species  o'  gammon  al- 
vays  a  runnin'  through  his  brain!  You'd  better  get 
your  out  o'  door  clothes  on,  and  come  to  town  about 
this  bis'ness,  than  stand  a  preachin'  there  about  wot 
you  don't  understand  nothin'  on.' 

'Wery  good,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  'I  'm 
quite  agreeable  to  anythin'  as  vill  hexpedite  business, 
Sammy.  But  mind  this  here,  my  boy,  nobody  but 
Pell — nobody  but  Pell  as  a  legal  adwiser.' 

'I  don't  want  anybody  else,'  replied  Sam.  'Now, 
are  you  a  comin'  ?' 

'Vait  a  minit,  Sammy,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  who, 
having  tied  his  shawl  with  the  aid  of  a  small  glass 
that  hung  in  the  window,  was  now,  by  dint  of  the  most 
wonderful  exertions,  struggling  into  his  upper  gar- 
ments. 'Vait  a  minit,  Sammy;  ven  you  grow  as  old 
as  your  father,  you  von't  get  into  your  veskit  quite 
as  easy  as  you  do  now,  my  boy.' 

'If  I  couldn't  get  into  it  easier  than  that,  I  'm 
blessed  if  I  'd  vear  vun  at  all,'  rejoined  his  son. 

'You  think  so  now,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  grav- 
ity of  age,  'but  you  '11  find  that  as  you  get  vider,  you  '11 
get  viser.  Vidth  and  visdom,  Sammy,  alvays  grows 
together/ 

As  Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  infallible  maxim — 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  483 

the  result  of  many  years'  personal  experience  and 
observation — he  contrived,  by  a  dexterous  twist  of  his 
body,  to  get  the  bottom  button  of  his  coat  to  perform 
its  office.  Having  paused  a  few  seconds  to  recover 
breath,  he  brushed  his  hat  with  his  elbow,  and  declared 
himself  ready. 

'As  four  heads  is  better  than  two,  Sammy/  said  Mr. 
Weller,  as  they  drove  along  the  London  Road  in  the 
chaise  cart,  'and  as  all  this  here  property  is  a  wery 
great  temptation  to  a  legal  genTm'n,  ve  11  take  a 
couple  o'  friends  o'  mine  vith  us,  as'll  be  wery  soon 
down  upon  him  if  he  comes  anythin'  irreg'lar ;  two  o' 
them  as  saw  you  to  the  Fleet  that  day.  They  're  the 
wery  best  judges,'  added  Mr.  Weller  in  a  half -whis- 
per, 'the  wery  best  judges  of  a  horse,  you  ever 
know'd.' 

'And  of  a  lawyer  too?'  inquired  Sam. 

'The  man  as  can  form  a  ackerate  judgment  of  a 
animal,  can  form  a  ackerate  judgment  of  anythin'/ 
replied  his  father;  so  dogmatically,  that  Sam  did  not 
attempt  to  controvert  the  position. 

In  pursuance  of  this  notable  resolution,  the  services 
of  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  and  of  two  other 
very  fat  coachmen — selected  by  Mr.  Weller,  probably, 
with  a  view  to  their  width  and  consequent  wisdom — 
were  put  into  requisition;  and  this  assistance  having 
been  secured,  the  party  proceeded  to  the  public-house 
in  Portugal  Street,  whence  a  messenger  was  des- 
patched to  the  Insolvent  Court  over  the  way,  requiring 
Mr.  Solomon  Pell's  immediate  attendance. 

The  messenger  fortunately  found  Mr.  Solomon 
Pell  in  court,  regaling  himself,  business  being  rather 
slack,  with  a  cold  collation  of  an  Abernethy  biscuit 
and  a  saveloy.  The  message  was  no  sooner  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  than  he  thrust  them  in  his  pocket 
among  various  professional  documents,  and  hurried 


484  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

over  the  way  with  such  alacrity  that  he  reached  the 
parlor  before  the  messenger  had  even  emancipated 
himself  from  the  court. 

'Gentlemen/  said  Mr.  Pell,  touching  his  hat,  'my 
service  to  you  all.  I  don't  say  it  to  flatter  you,  gentle- 
men, but  there  are  not  five  other  men  in  the  world  that 
I  'd  have  come  out  of  that  court  for  to-day.' 

'So  busy,  eh?'  said  Sam. 

'Busy!'  replied  Pell;  'I'm  completely  sewn  up,  as 
my  friend  the  late  Lord  Chancellor  many  a  time  used 
to  say  to  me,  gentlemen,  when  he  came  out  from  hear- 
ing appeals  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Poor  fellow !  he 
was  very  susceptible  of  fatigue ;  he  used  to  feel  those 
appeals  uncommonly.  I  actually  thought  more  than 
once  he'd  have  sunk  under  'em ;  I  did  indeed.' 

Here  Mr.  Pell  shook  his  head  and  paused;  on 
which,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  nudging  his  neighbour, 
as  begging  him  to  mark  the  attorney's  high  connec- 
tions, asked  whether  the  duties  in  question  produced 
any  permanent  ill  effects  on  the  constitution  of  his 
noble  friend. 

'I  don't  think  he  ever  quite  recovered  them,'  replied 
Pell;  in  fact,  I  'm  sure  he  never  did.  "Pell,"  he  used 
to  say  to  me  many  a  time,  "how  the  blazes  you  can 
stand  the  head-work  you  do,  is  a  mystery  to  me." — 
"Well,"  I  used  to  answer,  ffl  hardly  know  how  I  do 
it,  upon  my  life." — "Pell,"  he  'd  add,  sighing,  and 
looking  at  me  with  a  little  envy — friendly  envy,  you 
know,  gentlemen,  mere  friendly  envy ;  I  never  minded 
it — "Pell,  you  're  a  wonder;  a  wonder."  Ah!  you  'd 
have  liked  him  very  much,  if  you  had  known  him, 
gentlemen.  Bring  me  three-penn'orth  of  rum,  my 
dear.' 

Addressing  this  latter  remark  to  the  waitress  in  a 
tone  of  subdued  grief,  Mr.  Pell  sighed,  looked  at 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  485 

his  shoes,  and  the  ceiling;  and  the  rum  having  by 
that  time  arrived,  drunk  it  up. 

'However,'  said  Pell,  drawing  a  chair  to  the  table, 
'a  professional  man  has  no  right  to  think  of  his  private 
friendships  when  his  legal  assistance  is  wanted.  By 
the  bye,  gentleman,  since  I  saw  you  here  before,  we 
have  had  to  weep  over  a  very  melancholy  occur- 
rence.' 

Mr.  Pell  drew  out  a  pocket  handkerchief,  when  he 
came  to  the  word  weep,  but  he  made  no  further  use  of 
it  than  to  wipe  away  a  slight  tinge  of  rum  which  hung 
upon  his  upper  lip. 

'I  saw  it  in  the  Advertiser,  Mr.  Weller,'  continued 
Pell.  'Bless  my  soul,  not  more  than  fifty-two !  Dear 
me — only  think.' 

These  indications  of  a  musing  spirit  were  addressed 
to  the  mottled-faced  man,  whose  eyes  Mr.  Pell  had 
accidentally  caught ;  on  which,  the  mottled-faced  man, 
whose  apprehension  of  matters  in  general  was  of  a 
foggy  nature,  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat,  and  opined 
that  indeed,  so  far  as  that  went,  there  was  no  saying 
how  things  was  brought  about ;  which  observation,  in- 
volving one  of  those  subtle  propositions  which  it  is 
difficult  to  encounter  in  argument,  was  controverted  by 
nobody. 

'I  have  heard  it  remarked  that  she  was  a  very  fine 
woman,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Pell  in  a  sympathising  man- 
ner. 

'Yes,  sir,  she  wos,'  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller, 
not  much  relishing  this  mode  of  discussing  the  subject, 
and  yet  thinking  that  the  attorney,  from  his  long 
intimacy  with  the  late  Lord  Chancellor,  must  know 
best  on  all  matters  of  polite  breeding.  'She  wos  a 
wery  fine  'ooman,  sir,  ven  I  first  know'd  her.  She  wos 
a  widder,  sir,  at  that  time.' 


486  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Now,  it 's  curious,'  said  Pell,  looking  round  with  a 
sorrowful  smile;  'Mrs.  Pell  was  a  widow.' 

'That 's  very  extraordinary/  said  the  mottled-faced 
man. 

'Well,  it  is  a  curious  coincidence,'  said  Pell. 

'Not  at  all,'  gruffly  remarked  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 
'More  widders  is  married  than  single  wimin.' 

'Very  good,  very  good,'  said  Pell,  'you  're  quite 
right,  Mr.  Weller.  Mrs.  Pell  was  a  very  elegant  and 
accomplished  woman;  her  manners  were  the  theme  of 
universal  admiration  in  our  neighbourhood.  I  was 
proud  to  see  that  woman  dance ;  there  was  something 
so  firm  and  dignified,  and  yet  natural,  in  her  motion. 
Her  cutting,  gentlemen,  was  simplicity  itself.  Ah! 
well,  well!  Excuse  my  asking  the  question,  Mr.  Sam- 
uel,' continued  the  attorney  in  a  lower  voice,  'was  your 
mother-in-law  tall  ?' 

'Not  wery,'  answered  Sam. 

'Mrs.  Pell  was  a  tall  figure,'  said  Pell,  ca  splendid 
woman,  with  a  noble  shape,  and  a  nose,  gentlemen, 
formed  to  command  and  be  majestic.  She  was  very 
much  attached  to  me — very  much — highly  connected, 
too.  Her  mother's  brother,  gentlemen,  failed  for 
eight  hundred  pounds,  as  a  Law  Stationer.' 

'Veil,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  grown  rather  rest- 
less during  this  discussion,  'vith  regard  to  bis'ness.' 

The  word  was  music  to  Pell's  ears.  He  had  been 
revolving  in  his  mind  whether  any  business  was  to  be 
transacted,  or  whether  he  had  been  merely  invited  to 
partake  of  a  glass  of  brandy-and-water,  or  a  bowl  of 
punch,  or  any  similar  professional  compliment,  and 
now  the  doubt  was  set  at  rest  without  his  appearing 
at  all  eager  for  its  solution.  His  eyes  glistened  as  he 
laid  his  hat  on  the  table,  and  said — 

'What  is  the  business  upon  which — um?     Either  of 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  487 

these  gentlemen  wish  to  go  through  the  court?  We 
require  an  arrest ;  a  friendly  arrest  will  do,  you  know ; 
we  are  all  friends  here,  I  suppose?' 

'Give  me  the  dockyment,  Sammy,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
taking  the  will  from  his  son,  who  appeared  to  enjoy 
the  interview  amazingly.  'Wot  we  rekvire,  sir,  is  a 
probe  o'  this  here.' 

'Probate,  my  dear  sir,  probate,'  said  Pell. 

'Well,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller,  sharply,  'probe  and 
probe  it  is  wery  much  the  same;  if  you  don't  under- 
stand wot  I  mean,  sir,  I  dessay  I  can  find  them  as 
does.' 

'No  offence,  I  hope,  Mr.  Weller,'  said  Pell,  meekly. 
'You  are  the  executor,  I  see,'  he  added,  casting  his 
eyes  over  the  paper. 

'I  am,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'These  other  gentlemen,  I  presume,  are  legatees,  are 
they  ?'  inquired  Pell  with  a  congratulatory  smile. 

'Sammy  is  a  leg-at-ease,'  replied  Mr.  Weller;  'these 
other  genTm'n  is  friends  o'  mine,  just  come  to  see 
fair;  a  kind  of  umpires.' 

'Oh!'  said  Pell,  Very  good.  I  have  no  objections, 
I'm  sure.  I  shall  want  a  matter  of  five  pound  of  you 
before  I  begin,  ha !  ha !  ha !' 

It  being  decided  by  the  committee  that  the  five 
pound  might  be  advanced,  Mr.  Weller  produced  that 
sum;  after  which,  a  long  consultation  about  nothing 
particular  took  place,  in  the  course  whereof  Mr.  Pell 
demonstrated  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  the  gentle- 
men who  saw  fair,  that  unless  the  management  of  the 
business  had  been  intrusted  to  him,  it  must  all  have 
gone  wrong,  for  reasons  not  clearly  made  out,  but  no 
doubt  sufficient.  This  important  point  being  des- 
patched, Mr.  Pell  refreshed  himself  with  three  chops, 
and  liquids  both  malt  and  spirituous,  at  the  expense  of 


488  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

the  estate;  and  then  they  all  went  away  to  Doctors* 
Commons. 

The  next  day,  there  was  another  visit  to  Doctors' 
Commons,  and  a  great  to-do  with  an  attesting  hostler, 
who,  being  inebriated,  declined  swearing  anything  but 
profane  oaths,  to  the  great  scandal  of  a  proctor  and 
surrogate.  Next  week,  there  were  more  visits  to  Doc- 
tors' Commons,  and  there  was  a  visit  to  the  Legacy 
Duty  Office  besides,  and  there  were  treaties  entered 
into,  for  the  disposal  of  the  lease  and  business,  and 
ratifications  of  the  same,  and  inventories  to  be  made 
out,  and  lunches  to  be  taken,  and  dinners  to  be  eaten, 
and  so  many  profitable  things  to  be  done,  and  such  a 
mass  of  papers  accumulated,  that  Mr.  Solomon  Pell, 
and  the  boy,  and  the  blue  bag  to  boot,  all  got  so  stout 
that  scarcely  anybody  would  have  known  them  for  the 
same  man,  boy,  and  bag,  that  had  loitered  about  Portu- 
gal Street,  a  few  days  before. 

At  length  all  these  weighty  matters  being  arranged, 
a  day  was  fixed  for  selling  out  and  transferring  the 
stock,  and  of  waiting  with  that  view  upon  Wilkins 
Flasher,  Esq.,  stockbroker,  of  somewhere  near  the 
Bank,  who  had  been  recommended  by  Mr.  Solomon 
Pell  for  the  purpose. 

It  was  a  kind  of  festive  occasion,  and  the  parties 
were  attired  accordingly.  Mr.  Weller's  tops  were 
newly  cleaned,  and  his  dress  was  arranged  with  pecul- 
iar care;  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  wore  at  his 
buttonhole  a  full-sized  dahlia  with  several  leaves;  and 
the  coats  of  his  two  friends  were  adorned  with  nose- 
gays of  laurel  and  other  evergreens.  All  three  were 
habited  in  strict  holiday  costume;  that  is  to  say,  they 
were  wrapped  up  to  the  chins,  and  wore  as  many 
clothes  as  possible,  which  is,  and  has  been,  a  stage 
coachman's  idea  of  full  dress  ever  since  stage  coaches 
were  invented. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  489 

Mr.  Pell  was  waiting  at  the  usual  place  of  meeting 
at  the  appointed  time;  even  Mr.  Pell  wore  a  pair  of 
gloves  and  a  clean  shirt  much  frayed  at  the  collar  and 
wristbands  by  frequent  washings. 

'A  quarter  to  two,'  said  Pell,  looking  at  the  parlour 
clock.  'If  we  are  with  Mr.  Flasher  at  a  quarter  past, 
we  shall  just  hit  the  best  time.' 

'What  should  you  say  to  a  drop  o'  beer,  gen'Fm'n?' 
suggested  the  mottled-faced  man. 

'And  a  little  bit  o'  cold  beef,'  said  the  second  coach- 
man. 

'Or  a  oyster,'  added  the  third,  who  was  a  hoarse  gen- 
tleman, supported  by  very  round  legs. 

'Hear,  hear!'  said  Pell;  'to  congratulate  Mr.  Weller, 
on  his  coming  into  possession  of  his  property:  eh?  ha  I 
ha!' 

'I  'm  quite  agreeable,  genTm'n/  answered  Mr.  Wel- 
ler. 'Sammy,  pull  the  bell.' 

Sam  complied ;  and  the  porter,  cold  beef,  and  oysters 
being  promptly  produced,  the  lunch  was  done  ample 
justice  to.  Where  everybody  took  so  active  a  part, 
it  is  almost  invidious  to  make  a  distinction ;  but  if  one 
individual  evinced  greater  powers  than  another,  it  was 
the  coachman  with  the  hoarse  voice,  who  took  an  im- 
perial pint  of  vinegar  with  his  oysters,  without  betray- 
ing the  least  emotion. 

'Mr.  Pell,  sir,'  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  stirring  a 
glass  of  brandy-and-water,  of  which  one  was  placed 
before  every  gentleman  when  the  oyster-shells  were 
removed,  'Mr.  Pell,  sir,  it  wos  my  intention  to  have 
proposed  the  funs  on  this  occasion,  but  Samivel  has 
vispered  to  me— 

Here  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  had  silently  eaten 
his  oysters  with  tranquil  smiles,  cried  'Hear!'  in  a  very 
loud  voice. 

' — Has  vispered  to  me,'  resumed  his  father,  'that 


490  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

it  vould  be  better  to  dewote  the  liquor  to  vishin'  you 
success  and  prosperity,  and  thaiikin'  you  for  the  man- 
ner in  which  you  've  brought  this  here  business 
through.  Here  's  your  health,  sir.' 

'Hold  hard  there,'  interposed  the  mottled-faced 
gentleman,  with  sudden  energy,  'y°ur  eyes  on  me» 
genTm'n!' 

Saying  this,  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  rose,  as 
did  the  other  gentlemen.  The  mottled-faced  gentle- 
man reviewed  the  company,  and  slowly  lifted  his  hand, 
upon  which  every  man  (including  him  of  the  mottled 
countenance)  drew  a  long  breath,  and  lifted  his  tum- 
bler to  his  lips.  In  one  instant  the  mottled-faced 
gentleman  depressed  his  hand  again,  and  every  glass 
was  set  down  empty.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
thrilling  effect  produced  by  this  striking  ceremony. 
At  once  dignified,  solemn,  and  impressive,  it  combined 
every  element  of  grandeur. 

'Well,  gentlemen,'  said  Mr.  Pell,  'all  I  can  say  is, 
that  such  marks  of  confidence  must  be  very  gratifying 
to  a  professional  man.  I  don't  wish  to  say  anything 
that  might  appear  egotistical,  gentlemen,  but  I  'm 
very  glad,  for  your  own  sakes,  that  you  came  to  me : 
that 's  all.  If  you  had  gone  to  any  low  member  of 
the  profession,  it 's  my  firm  conviction,  and  I  assure 
you  of  it  as  a  fact,  that  you  would  have  found  your- 
selves in  Queer  Street  before  this.  I  could  have 
wished  my  noble  friend  had  been  alive  to  have  seen 
my  management  of  this  case.  I  don't  say  it  out  of 
pride,  but  I  think — however,  gentlemen,  I  won't 
trouble  you  with  that.  I  'm  generally  to  be  found 
here,  gentlemen,  but  if  I  'm  not  here,  or  over  the  way, 
that 's  my  address.  You  '11  find  my  terms  very  cheap 
and  reasonable,  and  no  man  attends  more  to  his  clients 
than  I  do,  and  I  hope  I  know  a  little  of  my  profes- 
sion besides.  If  you  have  any  opportunity  of  recom- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  491 

mending  me  to  any  of  your  friends,  gentlemen,  I 
shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  and  so  will  they  too, 
when  they  come  to  know  me.  Your  healths,  gentle- 
men.' 

With  this  expression  of  his  feelings,  Mr.  Solomon 
Pell  laid  three  small  written  cards  before  Mr.  Waller's 
friends,  and,  looking  at  the  clock  again,  feared  it  was 
time  to  be  walking.  Upon  this  hint  Mr.  Weller  set- 
tled the  bill,  and,  issuing  forth,  the  executor,  legatee, 
attorney,  and  umpires,  directed  their  steps  towards 
the  City. 

The  office  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  of  the 
Stock  Exchange,  was  in  a  first  floor  up  a  court  behind 
the  Bank  of  England ;  the  house  of  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire,  was  at  Brixton,  Surrey;  the  horse  and  stan- 
hope of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  were  at  an  adjacent 
livery  stable ;  the  groom  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire, 
was  on  his  way  to  the  West  End  to  deliver  some  game ; 
the  clerk  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  had  gone  to 
his  dinner;  and  so  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  himself, 
cried,  'Come  in,'  when  Mr.  Pell  and  his  companions 
knocked  at  the  counting-house  door. 

'Good  morning,  sir,'  said  Pell,  bowing  obsequiously. 
'We  want  to  make  a  little  transfer,  if  you  please.' 

'Oh,  come  in,  will  you?'  said  Mr.  Flasher.  'Sit 
down  a  minute ;  I  '11  attend  to  you  directly.' 

'Thank  you,  sir,'  said  Pell,  'there  's  no  hurry.  Take 
a  chair,  Mr.  Weller.' 

Mr.  Weller  took  a  chair,  and  Sam  took  a  box,  and 
the  umpires  took  what  they  could  get,  and  looked  at 
the  almanack  and  one  or  two  papers  which  were 
wafered  against  the  wall,  with  as  much  open-eyed 
reverence  as  if  they  had  been  the  finest  efforts  of  the 
old  masters. 

'Well,  I  '11  bet  you  half  a  dozen  of  claret  on  it ; 
come!'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  resuming  the 


492  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

conversation  to  which  Mr.  Pell's  entrance  had  caused 
a  momentary  interruption. 

This  was  addressed  to  a  very  smart  young  gentle- 
man who  wore  his  hat  on  his  right  whisker,  and  was 
lounging  over  the  desk,  killing  flies  with  a  ruler. 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  was  balancing  himself  on 
two  legs  of  an  office  stool,  spearing  a  wafer-box  with 
a  pen-knife,  which  he  dropped  every  now  and  then 
with  great  dexterity  into  the  very  centre  of  a  small 
red  wafer  that  was  stuck  outside.  Both  gentlemen 
had  very  open  waistcoats  and  very  rolling  collars,  and 
very  small  boots,  and  very  big  rings,  and  very  little 
watches,  and  very  large  guard  chains,  and  symmetri- 
cal inexpressibles,  and  scented  pocket  handkerchiefs. 

'I  never  bet  half  a  dozen,'  said  the  other  gentleman. 
'I  '11  take  a  dozen.' 

'Done,  Simmery,  done!'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Es- 
quire. 

'P.  P.,  mind,'  observed  the  other. 

'Of  course,'  replied  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  entered  it  in  a  little  book, 
with  a  gold  pencil-case,  and  the  other  gentleman  en- 
tered it  also,  in  another  little  book  with  another  gold 
pencil-case. 

'I  see  there  's  a  notice  up  this  morning  about  Bof- 
f er,'  observed  Mr.  Simmery.  'Poor  devil,  he  's  ex- 
pelled the  house !' 

'I  '11  bet  you  ten  guineas  to  five,  he  cuts  his  throat,' 
said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 

'Done,'  replied  Mr.  Simmery. 

'Stop!  I  bar,'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire, 
thoughtfully.  'Perhaps  he  may  hang  himself.' 

'Very  good,'  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery,  pulling  out  the 
gold  pencil-case  again.  'I  've  no  objection  to  take 
you  that  way.  Say,  makes  away  with  himself.' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  493 

'Kills  himself,  in  fact,'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Es- 
quire. 

'Just  so,'  replied  Mr.  Simmery,  putting  it  down. 
"Flasher — ten  guineas  to  five,  BofFer  kills  himself." 
Within  what  time  shall  we  say  ?' 

'A  fortnight  ?'  suggested  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 

'Con-found  it,  no,'  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery,  stop- 
ping for  an  instant  to  smash  a  fly  with  the  ruler. 
'Say  a  week.' 

'Split  the  difference,'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Es- 
quire. *  Make  it  ten  days.' 

'Well;  ten  days,'  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery. 

So,  it  was  entered  down  in  the  little  books  that 
BofFer  was  to  kill  himself  within  ten  days,  or  Wilkins 
Flasher,  Esquire,  was  to  hand  over  to  Frank  Sim- 
mery, Esquire,  the  sum  of  ten  guineas;  and  that  if 
BofFer  did  kill  himself  within  that  time,  Frank  Sim- 
mery, Esquire,  would  pay  to  Wilkins  Flasher,  Es- 
quire, five  guineas,  instead. 

'I  'm  very  sorry  he  has  failed,'  said  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire.  'Capital  dinners  he  gave.' 

'Fine  port  he  had  too,'  remarked  Mr.  Simmery. 
'We  are  going  to  send  our  butler  to  the  sale  to-morrow, 
to  pick  up  some  of  that  sixty-four.' 

'The  devil  you  are!'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 
'My  man  's  going  too.  Five  guineas  my  man  out- 
bids your  man.' 

'Done.' 

Another  entry  was  made  in  the  little  books,  with 
the  gold  pencil-cases;  and  Mr.  Simmery  having,  by 
this  time,  killed  all  the  flies,  and  taken  all  the  bets, 
strolled  away  to  the  Stock  Exchange  to  see  what  was 
going  forward. 

Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  now  condescended  to  re- 
ceive Mr.  Solomon  Pell's  instructions,  and  having 


494  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

filled  up  some  printed  forms,  requested  the  party  to 
follow  him  to  the  Bank:  which  they  did:  Mr.  Weller 
and  his  three  friends  staring  at  all  they  beheld  in 
unbounded  astonishment,  and  Sam  encountering 
everything  with  a  coolness  which  nothing  could 
disturb. 

Crossing  a  court-yard  which  was  all  noise  and 
bustle;  and  passing  a  couple  of  porters  who  seemed 
dressed  to  match  the  red  fire-engine  which  was  wheeled 
away  into  a  corner;  they  passed  into  an  office  where 
their  business  was  to  be  transacted,  and  where  Pell 
and  Mr.  Flasher  left  them  standing  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, while  they  went  upstairs  into  the  Will  Office. 

'Wot  place  is  this  here?'  whispered  the  mottled- 
faced  gentleman  to  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

'Counsel's  Office/  replied  the  executor  in  a  whisper. 

'Wot  are  them  gen'l'm'n  a  settin'  behind  the  count- 
ers ?'  asked  the  hoarse  coachman. 

'Reduced  counsels,  I  s'pose,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 
'Ain't  they  the  reduced  counsels,  Samivel  ?' 

'Wy,  you  don't  suppose  the  reduced  counsels  is 
alive,  do  you  ?'  inquired  Sam,  with  some  disdain. 

'How  should  I  know?'  retorted  Mr.  Weller;  'I 
thought  they  looked  wery  like  it.  Wot  are  they, 
then?' 

'Clerks,'  replied  Sam. 

'Wot  are  they  all  a  eatin'  ham  sangwidges  for?* 
inquired  his  father. 

'  'Cos  it's  in  their  dooty,  I  suppose,'  replied  Sam; 
*it  's  a  part  o'  the  system ;  they  're  alvays  a  doin'  it 
here,  all  day  long!' 

Mr.  Weller  and  his  friends  had  scarcely  had  a  mo- 
ment to  reflect  upon  this  singular  regulation  as  con- 
nected with  the  monetary  system  of  the  country,  when 
they  were  rejoined  by  Pell  and  Wilkins  Flasher,  Es- 
quire, who  led  them  to  a  part  of  the  counter  above 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  495 

which  was  a  round  black  board  with  a  large  '  W  on  it. 

'Wot 's  that  for,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  direct- 
ing1 Pell's  attention  to  the  target  in  question. 

'The  first  letter  of  the  name  of  the  deceased,'  replied 
Pell. 

'I  say,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  turning  round  to  the  um- 
pires. 'There  's  somethin'  wrong  here.  We  's  our 
letter — this  won't  do.' 

The  referees  at  once  gave  it  as  their  decided  opinion 
that  the  business  could  not  be  legally  proceeded  with 
under  the  letter  W,  and  in  all  probability  it  would 
have  stood  over  for  one  day  at  least,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  prompt,  though,  at  first  sight,  undutiful  be- 
haviour of  Sam,  w7ho,  seizing  his  father  by  the  skirt 
of  the  coat,  dragged  him  to  the  counter,  and  pinned 
him  there,  until  he  had  affixed  his  signature  to  a  couple 
of  instruments;  which  from  Mr.  Weller's  habit  of 
printing,  was  a  work  of  so  much  labour  and  time,  that 
the  officiating  clerk  peeled  and  ate  three  Ripstone 
pippins  while  it  was  performing. 

As  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  insisted  on  selling  out 
his  portion  forthwith,  they  proceeded  from  the  Bank 
to  the  gate  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  to  which  Wilkins 
Flasher,  Esquire,  after  a  short  absence,  returned  with 
a  cheque  on  Smith,  Payne,  and  Smith,  for  five  hun- 
dred and  thirty  pounds ;  that  being  the  sum  of  money 
to  which  Mr.  Weller,  at  the  market  price  of  the  day, 
was  entitled,  in  consideration  of  the  balance  of  the 
second  Mrs.  Weller's  funded  savings.  Sam's  two 
hundred  pounds  stood  transferred  to  his  name,  and 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  having  been  paid  his  com- 
mission, dropped  the  money  carelessly  into  his  coat 
pocket,  and  lounged  back  to  his  office. 

Mr.  Weller  was  at  first  obstinately  determined  on 
cashing  the  cheque  in  nothing  but  sovereigns;  but  it 
being  represented  by  the  umpires  that  by  so  doing  he 


496  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

must  incur  the  expense  of  a  small  sack  to  carry  them 
home  in,  he  consented  to  receive  the  amount  in  five- 
pound  notes. 

'My  son,'  said  Mr.  Weller  as  they  came  out  of  the 
banking-house,  'my  son  and  me  has  a  wery  particular 
engagement  this  arternoon,  and  I  should  like  to  have 
this  here  bis'ness  settled  out  of  hand,  so  let 's  jest  go 
straight  avay  someveres,  vere  ve  can  hordit  the  ac- 
counts.' 

A  quiet  room  was  soon  found,  and  the  accounts 
were  produced  and  audited.  Mr.  Pell's  bill  was  taxed 
by  Sam,  and  some  charges  were  disallowed  by  the 
umpires ;  but,  notwithstanding  Mr.  Pell's  declaration, 
accompanied  with  many  solemn  asseverations  that 
they  were  really  too  hard  upon  him,  it  was  by  very 
many  degrees  the  best  professional  job  he  had  ever 
had,  and  one  on  which  he  boarded,  lodged,  and  washed 
for  six  months  afterwards. 

The  umpires  having  partaken  of  a  dram,  shook 
hands  and  departed,  as  they  had  to  drive  out  of  town 
that  night.  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  finding  that  nothing 
more  was  going  forward,  either  in  the  eating  or 
drinking  way,  took  a  friendly  leave,  and  Sam  and  his 
father  were  left  alone. 

'There !'  said  Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  his  pocket-book 
in  his  side  pocket.  'Vith  the  bills  for  the  lease,  and 
that,  there  's  eleven  hundred  and  eighty  pound  here. 
Now,  Samivel,  my  boy,  turn  the  horses'  heads  to  the 
George  and  Wulterl* 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  497 


CHAPTER  LVI 

AN  IMPORTANT  CONFERENCE  TAKES  PLACE  BETWEEN 
MR.  PICKWICK  AND  SAMUEL  WELLER,  AT  WHICH 
HIS  PARENT  ASSISTS.  AN  OLD  GENTLEMAN  IN  A 
SNUFF-COLOURED  SUIT  ARRIVES  UNEXPECTEDLY. 

MR.  PICKWICK  was  sitting  alone,  musing  over  many 
things,  and  thinking  among  other  considerations  how 
he  could  best  provide  for  the  young  couple  whose 
present  unsettled  condition  was  matter  of  constant 
regret  and  anxiety  to  him,  when  Mary  stepped  lightly 
into  the  room,  and,  advancing  to  the  table,  said,  rather 
hastily — 

'Oh,  if  you  please,  sir,  Samuel  is  downstairs,  and 
he  says  may  his  father  see  you  V 

'Surely,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Thank  you,  sir,'  said  Mary,  tripping  towards  the 
door  again. 

'Sam  has  not  been  here  long,  has  he?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'Oh  no,  sir,'  replied  Mary  eagerly.  'He  has  only 
just  come  home.  He  is  not  going  to  ask  you  for  any 
more  leave,  sir,  he  says.' 

Mary  might  have  been  conscious  that  she  had  com- 
municated this  last  intelligence  with  more  warmth 
than  seemed  actually  necessary,  or  she  might  have  ob- 
served the  good-humoured  smile  with  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick regarded  her,  when  she  had  finished  speaking. 
She  certainly  held  down  her  head,  and  examined  the 
corner  of  a  very  smart  little  apron,  with  more  close- 
ness than  there  appeared  any  absolute  occasion  for. 

'Tell  them  they  can  come  up  at  once,  by  all  means,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


498  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

Mary,  apparently  much  relieved,  hurried  away  with 
her  message. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down 
the  room;  and  rubbing  his  chin  with  his  left  hand  ac 
he  did  so,  appeared  lost  in  thought. 

'Well,  well/  said  Mr.  Pickwick  at  length,  in  a 
kind  but  somewhat  melancholy  tone,  'it  is  the  best  way 
in  which  I  could  reward  him  for  his  attachment  and 
fidelity;  let  it  be  so,  in  Heaven's  name.  It  is  the 
fate  of  a  lonely  old  man,  that  those  about  him  should 
form  new  and  different  attachments  and  leave  him. 
I  have  no  right  to  expect  that  it  should  be  otherwise 
with  me.  No,  no/  added  Mr.  Pickwick  more  cheer- 
fully, 'it  would  be  selfish  and  ungrateful.  I  ought  to 
be  happy  to  have  an  opportunity  of  providing  for  him 
so  well.  I  am.  Of  course  I  am.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  absorbed  in  these  reflec- 
tions, that  a  knock  at  the  door  was  three  or  four  times 
repeated  before  he  heard  it.  Hastily  seating  himself, 
and  calling  up  his  accustomed  pleasant  looks,  he  gave 
the  required  permission,  and  Sam  Weller  entered, 
followed  by  his  father. 

'Glad  to  see  you  back  again,  Sam/  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 'How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller  ?' 

'Wery  hearty,  thank  'ee,  sir/  replied  the  widower; 
'hope  I  see  you  well,  sir/ 

'Quite,  I  thank  you/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'I  wanted  to  have  a  little  bit  o*  conwersation  with 
you,  sir/  said  Mr.  Weller,  'if  you  could  spare  me  five 
minits  or  so.  sir.* 

'Certainly/  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  'Sam,  give 
your  father  a  chair/ 

'Thank  'ee,  Samivel,  I  Ve  got  a  cheer  here/  said  Mr. 
Weller,  bringing  one  forward  as  he  spoke ;  'uncommon 
fine  day  it 's  been,  sir/  added  the  old  gentleman,  lay- 
ing his  hat  on  the  floor  as  he  sat  himself  down. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  499 

'Remarkably  so  indeed,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'Very  seasonable.' 

'Seasonablest  veather  I  ever  see,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr. 
Weller.  Here  the  old  gentleman  was  seized  with  a 
violent  fit  of  coughing,  which,  being  terminated,  he 
nodded  his  head  and  wrinked  and  made  several  sup- 
plicatory and  threatening  gestures  to  his  son,  all  of 
which  Sam  Weller  steadily  abstained  from  seeing. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  perceiving  that  there  was  some  em- 
barrassment on  the  old  gentleman's  part,  affected  to 
be  engaged  in  cutting  the  leaves  of  a  book  that  lay 
beside  him,  and  waited  patiently  until  Mr.  Weller 
should  arrive  at  the  object  of  his  visit. 

'I  never  see  sich  a  aggerawatin'  boy  as  you  are, 
Samivel,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  looking  indignantly  at  his 
son ;  'never  in  all  my  born  days.' 

'What  is  he  doing,  Mr.  Weller?'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

'He  von't  begin,  sir,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller;  'he 
knows  I  ain't  ekal  to  ex-pressin'  myself  ven  there  's 
anythin'  partickler  to  be  done,  and  yet  he  '11  stand  and 
see  me  a  settin'  here  takin'  up  your  walable  time,  and 
makin'  a  reg'lar  spectacle  o'  myself,  rayther  than  help 
me  out  vith  a  syllable.  It  ain't  filial  conduct,  Sam- 
ivel,' said  Mr.  Weller,  wiping  his  forehead ;  'wery  far 
from  it.' 

'You  said  you  'd  speak,'  replied  Sam ;  'how  should 
I  know  you  wos  done  up  at  the  wery  beginnin'  ?' 

'You  might  ha'  seen  I  warn't  able  to  start,'  rejoined 
his  father;  'I  'm  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  road,  and 
backin'  into  the  palins,  and  all  manner  of  unpleasant- 
ness, and  yet  you  von't  put  out  a  hand  to  help  me. 
I'm  ashamed  on  you,  Samivel.' 

'The  fact  is,  sir,'  said  Sam,  with  a  slight  bow,  'the 
gov'ner  's  been  a  drawin'  his  money.' 

'Wery  good,  Samivel,  wery  good,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 


500  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

nodding  his  head  with  a  satisfied  air,  'I  didn't  mean 
to  speak  harsh  to  you,  Sammy.  Wery  good.  That 's 
the  vay  to  begin.  Come  to  the  pint  at  once.  Wery 
good  indeed,  Samivel.' 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  his  head  an  extraordinary  num- 
ber of  times,  in  the  excess  of  his  gratification,  and 
waited  in  a  listening  attitude  for  Sam  to  resume  his 
statement. 

'You  may  sit  down,  Sam/  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ap- 
prehending that  the  interview  was  likely  to  prove 
rather  longer  than  he  had  expected. 

Sam  bowed  again  and  sat  down;  his  father  looking 
round,  he  continued — 

'The  gov'ner,  sir,  has  drawn  out  five  hundred  and 
thirty  pound.' 

'Reduced  counsels,'  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  senior, 
in  an  undertone. 

'It  don't  much  matter  vether  it 's  reduced  counsels, 
or  wot  not,'  said  Sam ;  'five  hundred  and  thirty  pound 
is  the  sum,  ain't  it  ?' 

'All  right,  Samivel/  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'To  vich  sum,  he  has  added  for  the  house  and 
bis'ness — ' 

'Lease,  good-vill,  stock,  and  fixters/  interposed  Mr. 
Weller. 

—As  much  as  makes  it/  continued   Sam,   'alto- 
gether, eleven  hundred  and  eighty  pound.' 

'Indeed!'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'I  am  delighted  to 
hear  it.  I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Weller,  on  having 
done  so  well.' 

'Vait  a  minute,  sir/  said  Mr.  Weller,  raising  his 
hand  in  a  deprecatory  manner.  'Get  on,  Samivel.' 

'This  here  money/  said  Sam,  with  a  little  hesitation, 
'he  's  anxious  to  put  someveres,  vere  he  knows  it  '11  be 
safe,  and  I  'm  wery  anxious  too,  for  if  he  keeps  it, 
he  '11  go  a  lendin'  it  to  somebody,  or  inwestin'  prop- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  501 

erty  in  horses,  or  droppin'  his  pocket-book  down  a 
airy,  or  makin'  a  Egyptian  mummy  of  his-self  in  some 
vay  or  another.' 

'Wery  good,  Samivel,'  observed  Mr.  Weller,  in  as 
complacent  a  manner  as  if  Sam  had  been  passing  the 
highest  eulogiums  on  his  prudence  and  foresight. 
'Wery  good.' 

'For  vich  reasons,'  continued  Sam,  plucking  nerv- 
ously at  the  brim  of  his  hat;  'for  vich  reasons,  he's 
drawd  it  out  to-day,  and  come  here  vith  me  to  say, 
leastvays  to  offer,  or  in  other  vords  to — 

' — To  say  this  here,'  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller, 
impatiently,  'that  it  ain't  o'  no  use  to  me.  I  'm  a 
goin'  to  vork  a  coach  reg'lar,  and  ha'nt  got  noveres  to 
keep  it  in,  unless  I  vos  to  pay  the  guard  for  takin' 
care  on  it,  or  to  put  it  in  vun  o'  the  coach  pockets, 
vich  'ud  be  a  temptation  to  the  insides.  If  you  '11 
take  care  on  it  for  me,  sir,  I  shall  be  wery  much  obliged 
to  you.  P'raps,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  walking  up  to  Mr. 
Pickwick,  and  whispering  in  his  ear,  'p'raps  it  '11  go  a 
little  vay  towards  the  expenses  o'  that  'ere  conwiction. 
All  I  say  is,  just  you  keep  it  till  I  ask  you  for  it  again.' 
With  these  words,  Mr.  Weller  placed  the  pocket- 
book  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  hands,  caught  up  his  hat,  and 
ran  out  of  the  room  with  a  celerity  scarcely  to  be  ex- 
pected from  so  corpulent  a  subject. 

'Stop  him,  Sam!'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick  earnestly. 
'Overtake  him;  bring  him  back  instantly!  Mr.  Wel- 
ler— here — come  back !' 

Sam  saw  that  his  master's  injunctions  were  not  to 
be  disobeyed;  and  catching  his  father  by  the  arm  as 
he  was  descending  the  stairs,  dragged  him  back  by 
main  force. 

'My  good  friend,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  the 
old  man  by  the  hand;  'your  honest  confidence  over- 
powers me.' 


502  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'I  don't  see  no  occasion  for  nothin'  o'  the  kind,  sir,' 
replied  Mr.  Weller,  obstinately. 

'I  assure  you,  my  good  friend,  I  have  more  money 
than  I  can  ever  need ;  far  more  than  a  man  at  my  age 
can  ever  live  to  spend,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'No  man  knows  how  much  he  can  spend,  till  he 
tries/  observed  Mr.  Weller. 

'Perhaps  not,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick ;  'but  as  I  have 
no  intention  of  trying  any  such  experiments,  I  am 
not  likely  to  come  to  want.  I  must  beg  you  to  take 
this  back,  Mr.  Weller.' 

'Wery  well,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  discontented 
look.  'Mark  my  vords,  Sammy.  I  '11  do  somethin' 
desperate  vith  this  here  property;  somethin'  des- 
perate r 

'You  'd  better  not,'  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  reflected  for  a  short  time,  and  then, 
buttoning  up  his  coat  with  great  determination,  said— 

'I  '11  keep  a  pike.' 

'Wot!'  exclaimed  Sam. 

'A  pike,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  through  his  set 
teeth ;  'I  '11  keep  a  pike.  Say  good-bye  to  your  father, 
Samivel.  I  dewote  the  remainder  o'  my  days  to  a 
pike.' 

This  threat  was  such  an  awful  one,  and  Mr.  Weller 
besides  appearing  fully  resolved  to  carry  it  into  execu- 
tion, seemed  so  deeply  mortified  by  Mr.  Pickwick's 
refusal,  that  that  gentleman,  after  a  short  reflection, 
said — 

'Well,  well,  Mr.  Weller,  I  will  keep  the  money. 
I  can  do  more  good  with  it,  perhaps,  than  you  can.' 

'Just  the  wery  thing,  to  be  sure,'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
brightening  up ;  'o'  course  you  can,  sir.' 

'Say  no  more  about  it,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  locking 
the  pocket-book  in  his  desk ;  'I  am  heartily  obliged  to 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  503 

you,  my  good  friend.  Now  sit  down  again.  I  want 
to  ask  your  advice.' 

The  internal  laughter  occasioned  by  the  triumphant 
success  of  his  visit,  which  had  convulsed  not  only  Mr. 
Weller's  face,  but  his  arms,  legs,  and  body  also,  dur- 
ing the  locking  up  of  the  pocket-book,  suddenly  gave 
place  to  the  most  dignified  gravity  as  he  heard  these 
words. 

'Wait  outside  a  few  minutes,  Sam,  will  you?'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  immediately  withdrew. 

Mr.  Weller  looked  uncommonly  wise  and  very  much 
amazed,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  discourse  by 
saying— 

'You  are  not  an  advocate  for  matrimony,  I  think, 
Mr.  Weller?' 

Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head.  He  was  wholly  unable 
to  speak;  vague  thoughts  of  some  wicked  widow  hav- 
ing been  successful  in  her  designs  on  Mr.  Pickwick, 
choked  his  utterance. 

'Did  you  happen  to  see  a  young  girl  downstairs 
wrhen  you  came  in  just  now  with  your  son?'  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Yes.  I  see  a  young  gal,'  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
shortly. 

'What  did  you  think  of  her,  now?  Candidly,  Mr. 
Weller,  what  did  you  think  of  her?' 

'I  thought  she  wos  wery  plump,  and  veil  made,'  said 
Mr.  Weller,  with  a  critical  air. 

'So  she  is,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'so  she  is.  What  did 
you  think  of  her  manners,  from  what  you  saw  of  her?' 

'Wery  pleasant,'  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  'Wery 
pleasant  and  conformable.' 

The  precise  meaning  which  Mr.  Weller  attached  to 
this  last-mentioned  adjective  did  not  appear;  but,  as 


504  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

it  was  evident  from  the  tone  in  which  he  used  it  that 
it  was  a  favourable  expression,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  as 
well  satisfied  as  if  he  had  been  thoroughly  enlightened 
on  the  subject. 

'I  take  a  great  interest  in  her,  Mr.  Weller,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Weller  coughed. 

'I  mean  an  interest  in  her  doing  well,'  resumed  Mr. 
Pickwick;  'a,  desire  that  she  may  be  comfortable  and 
prosperous.  You  understand  ?' 

'Wery  clearly/  replied  Mr.  Weller,  who  understood 
nothing  yet. 

'That  young  person,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'is  attached 
to  your  son.' 

'To  Samivel  Veller!'  exclaimed  the  parent. 

'Yes,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'It 's  nat'ral,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  after  some  consid- 
eration, 'nat'ral,  but  rayther  alarmin'.  Sammy  must 
be  careful.' 

'How  do  you  mean?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'Wery  careful  that  he  don't  say  nothin'  to  her,' 
responded  Mr.  Weller.  'Wery  careful  that  he  ain't 
led  avay,  in  a  innocent  moment,  to  say  anythink  as 
may  lead  to  a  conwiction  for  breach.  You  're  never 
safe  vith  'em,  Mr.  Pickwick,  ven  they  vunce  has  de- 
signs on  you ;  there  's  no  knowin'  vere  to  have  'em ; 
and  vile  you  're  a  considering  of  it,  they  have  you. 
I  wos  married  fust,  that  vay  myself,  sir,  and  Sammy 
wos  the  consekens  o'  the  manoover.' 

'You  give  me  no  great  encouragement  to  conclude 
what  I  have  to  say,'  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  'but  I 
had  better  do  so  at  once.  This  young  person  is  not 
only  attached  to  your  son,  Mr.  Weller,  but  your  son 
is  attached  to  her.' 

'Veil,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  'this  here  's  a  pretty  sort  o' 
thing  to  come  to  a  father's  ears,  this  is !' 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  505 

'I  have  observed  them  on  several  occasions,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  making  no  comment  on  Mr.  Weller's 
last  remark;  'and  entertain  no  doubt  at  all  about  it. 
Supposing  I  were  desirous  of  establishing  them  com- 
fortably as  man  and  wife  in  some  little  business  or 
situation,  where  they  might  hope  to  obtain  a  decent 
living,  what  should  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Weller?' 

At  first,  Mr.  Weller  received,  with  wry  faces,  a 
proposition  involving  the  marriage  of  anybody  in 
whom  he  took  an  interest ;  but,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  argued 
the  point  with  him,  and  laid  great  stress  on  the  fact 
that  Mary  was  not  a  widow,  he  gradually  became  more 
tractable.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  great  influence  over 
him,  and  he  had  been  much  struck  with  Mary's  ap- 
pearance; having,  in  fact,  bestowed  several  very  un- 
fatherly  winks  upon  her  already.  At  length  he  said 
that  it  was  not  for  him  to  oppose  Mr.  Pickwick's 
inclination,  and  that  he  would  be  very  happy  to  yield 
to  his  advice;  upon  which,  Mr.  Pickwick  joyfully  took 
him  at  his  word,  and  called  Sam  back  into  the  room. 

'Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  clearing  his  throat,  'your 
father  and  I  have  been  having  some  conversation  about 
you.' 

'About  you,  Samivel,'  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  pat- 
ronising and  impressive  voice. 

'I  am  not  so  blind,  Sam,  as  not  to  have  seen,  a  long 
time  since,  that  you  entertain  something  more  than 
a  friendly  feeling  towards  Mrs.  Winkle's  maid,'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

'You  hear  this,  Samivel?'  said  Mr.  Weller  in  the 
same  judicial  form  of  speech  as  before. 

'I  hope,  sir,'  said  Sam,  addressing  his  master:  'I 
hope  there  's  no  harm  in  a  young  man  takin'  notice 
of  a  young  'ooman  as  is  undeniably  good-looking  and 
well-conducted.' 

'Certainly  not,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


506  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Not  by  no  means,'  acquiesced  Mr.  Weller,  affably 
but  magisterially. 

'So  far  from  thinking  there  is  anything  wrong,  in 
conduct  so  natural,'  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  'it  is  my 
wish  to  assist  and  promote  your  wishes  in  this  respect. 
With  this  view,  I  have  had  a  little  conversation  with 
your  father ;  and  finding  that  he  is  of  my  opinion— 

'The  lady  not  bein'  a  widder,'  interposed  Mr.  Wel- 
ler in  explanation. 

'The  lady  not  being  a  widow,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
smiling.  'I  wish  to  free  you  from  the  restraint  which 
your  present  position  imposes  upon  you,  and  to  mark 
my  sense  of  your  fidelity  and  many  excellent  qualities, 
by  enabling  you  to  marry  this  girl  at  once,  and  to  earn 
an  independent  livelihood  for  yourself  and  family.  I 
shall  be  proud,  Sam,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  voice 
had  faltered  a  little  hitherto,  but  now  resumed  its  cus- 
tomary tone,  'proud  and  happy  to  make  your  future 
prospects  in  life  my  grateful  and  peculiar  care.' 

There  was  a  profound  silence  for  a  short  time,  and 
then  Sam  said,  in  a  low  husky  sort  of  voice,  but  firmly 
withal — 

'I  'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  goodness, 
sir,  as  is  only  like  yourself;  but  it  can't  be  done.' 

"Can't  be  done!'  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick  in  as- 
tonishment. 

'Samivel!'  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  dignity. 

'I  say  it  can't  be  done,'  repeated  Sam  in  a  louder 
key.  'Wot 's  to  become  of  you,  sir?' 

'My  good  fellow,'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  'the  re- 
cent changes  among  my  friends  will  alter  my  mode 
of  life  in  future,  entirely;  besides,  I  am  growing 
older,  and  want  repose  and  quiet.  My  rambles,  Sam, 
are  over.' 

'How  do  I  know  that  'ere,  sir?'  argued  Sam.  'You 
think  so  now !  S'pose  you  wos  to  change  your  mind, 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  507 

vich  is  not  unlikely,  for  you  Ve  the  spirit  o'  five-and- 
tventy  in  you  still,  what  'ud  become  on  you  vithout 
me?  It  can't  be  done,  sir,  it  can't  be  done.' 

'Wery  good,  Samivel,  there  's  a  good  deal  in  that,' 
said  Mr.  Weller,  encouragingly. 

'I  speak  after  long  deliberation,  Sam,  and  with  the 
certainty  that  I  shall  keep  my  word,'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, snaking  his  head.  'New  scenes  have  closed 
upon  me;  my  rambles  are  at  an  end.' 

'Wery  good,'  rejoined  Sam.  'Then,  that 's  the 
wery  best  reason  wy  you  should  alvays  have  some- 
body by  you  as  understands  you,  to  keep  you  up  and 
make  you  comfortable.  If  you  vant  a  more  polished 
sort  o'  feller,  veil  and  good,  have  him ;  but  vages  or  no 
vages,  notice  or  no  notice,  board  or  no  board,  lodgin' 
or  no  lodgin',  Sam  Veller,  as  you  took  from  the  old 
inn  in  the  Borough,  sticks  by  you,  come  what  come 
may;  and  let  ev'rythin'  and  ev'rybody  do  their  wery 
fiercest,  nothin'  shall  ever  perwent  it!' 

At  the  close  of  this  declaration,  which  Sam  made 
with  great  emotion,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  rose  from 
his  chair,  and,  forgetting  all  considerations  of  time, 
place,  or  propriety,  waved  his  hat  above  his  head,  and 
gave  three  vehement  cheers. 

'My  good  fellow,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Mr. 
Weller  had  sat  down  again,  rather  abashed  at  his  own 
enthusiasm,  'you  are  bound  to  consider  the  young 
woman  also.' 

'I  do  consider  the  young  'ooman,  sir,'  said  Sam.  'I 
have  considered  the  young  'ooman.  I've  spoke  to  her. 
I  Ye  told  her  how  I  'm  sitivated ;  she  's  ready  to  vait  till 
I'm  ready,  and  I  believe  she  vill.  If  she  don't,  she's 
not  the  young  'ooman  I  take  her  for,  and  I  give  her 
up  vith  readiness.  You've  knowr'd  me  afore,  sir. 
My  mind's  made  up,  and  nothin'  can  ever  alter  it.' 

Who  could  combat  this  resolution  ?     Xot  Mr.  Pick » 


508  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

wick.  He  derived,  at  that  moment,  more  pride  and 
luxury  of  feeling  from  the  disinterested  attachment 
of  his  humble  friends,  than  ten  thousand  protestations 
from  the  greatest  men  living  could  have  awakened  in 
his  heart. 

While  this  conversation  was  passing  in  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's room,  a  little  old  gentleman  in  a  suit  of  snuff- 
coloured  clothes,  followed  by  a  porter  carrying  a  small 
portmanteau,  presented  himself  below;  and  after  se- 
curing a  bed  for  the  night,  inquired  of  the  waiter 
whether  one  Mrs.  Winkle  was  staying  there,  to  which 
question  the  waiter,  of  course,  responded  in  the  affirm- 
ative. 

'Is  she  alone?'  inquired  the  little  old  gentleman. 

'I  believe  she  is,  sir,'  replied  the  waiter;  'I  can  call 
her  own  maid,  sir,  if  you— 

'No,  I  don't  want  her,'  said  the  old  gentleman 
quickly.  'Show  me  to  her  room  without  announcing 
me.' 

'Eh,  sir?'  said  the  waiter. 

'Are  you  deaf?'  inquired  the  little  old  gentleman. 

'No,  sir.' 

'Then  listen,  if  you  please.     Can  you  hear  me  now?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'That 's  well.  Show  me  to  Mrs.  Winkle's  room, 
without  announcing  me.' 

As  the  little  old  gentleman  uttered  this  command, 
he  slipped  five  shillings  into  the  waiter's  hand,  and 
looked  steadily  at  him. 

'Really,  sir,'  said  the  waiter,  'I  don't  know,  sir, 
whether — ' 

'Ah !  you  '11  do  it,  I  see,'  said  the  little  old  gentle- 
man. 'You  had  better  do  it  at  once.  It  will  save 
time.' 

There  was  something  so  very  cool  and  collected  in 
the  gentleman's  manner,  that  the  waiter  put  the  five 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  509 

shillings  in  his  pocket,  and  led  him  upstairs  without 
another  word. 

'This  is  the  room,  is  it?'  said  the  gentleman.  'You 
may  go.' 

The  waiter  complied,  wondering  much  who  the 
gentleman  could  be,  and  what  he  wanted ;  the  little  old 
gentleman  waiting  till  he  was  out  of  sight,  tapped  at 
the  door. 

'Come  in,'  said  Arabella. 

'Um,  a  pretty  voice  at  any  rate,'  murmured  the 
little  old  gentleman;  'but  that's  nothing.'  As  he  said 
this,  he  opened  the  door  and  walked  in.  Arabella, 
who  was  sitting  at  work,  rose  on  beholding  a  stranger 
— a  little  confused — but  by  no  means  ungracefully  so. 

'Pray  don't  rise,  ma'am,'  said  the  unknown,  walking 
in,  and  closing  the  door  after  him.  'Mrs.  Winkle,  I 
believe  ?' 

Arabella  inclined  her  head. 

'Mrs.  Nathaniel  Winkle,  who  married  the  son  of  the 
old  man  at  Birmingham?'  said  the  stranger,  eyeing 
Arabella  with  visible  curiosity. 

Again,  Arabella  inclined  her  head,  and  looked  un- 
easily around,  as  if  uncertain  whether  to  call  for  as- 
sistance. 

'I  surprise  you,  I  see,  ma'am,'  said  the  old  gentle- 
man. 

'Rather,  I  confess,'  replied  Arabella,  wondering 
more  and  more. 

'I  '11  take  a  chair,  if  you  '11  allow  me,  ma'am,'  said 
the  stranger. 

He  took  one ;  and  drawing  a  spectacle-case  from  his 
pocket,  leisurely  pulled  out  a  pair  of  spectacles,  which 
he  adjusted  on  his  nose. 

'You  don't  know  me,  ma'am?'  he  said,  looking  so 
intently  at  Arabella  that  she  began  to  feel  alarmed. 

'No,  sir,'  she  replied  timidly. 


510  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 


,'  said  the  gentleman,  nursing  his  left  leg;  'I 
don't  know  how  you  should.  You  know  my  name, 
though,  ma'am?' 

'Do  I?'  said  Arabella,  trembling,  though  she 
scarcely  knew  why.  'May  I  ask  what  it  is?' 

'Presently,  ma'am,  presently,'  said  the  stranger,  not 
having  yet  removed  his  eyes  from  her  countenance. 
'You  have  been  recently  married,  ma'am?' 

'I  have,'  replied  Arabella,  in  a  scarcely  audible  tone, 
laying  aside  her  work,  and  becoming  greatly  agitated 
as  a  thought  that  had  occurred  to  her  before,  struck 
more  forcibly  upon  her  mind. 

'Without  having  represented  to  your  husband  the 
propriety  of  first  consulting  his  father,  on  whom  he  is 
dependent,  I  think?'  said  the  stranger. 

Arabella  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

'Without  an  endeavour,  even,  to  ascertain,  by  some 
indirect  appeal,  what  were  the  old  man's  sentiments 
on  a  point  in  which  he  would  naturally  feel  much  in- 
terested?' said  the  stranger. 

'I  cannot  deny  it,  sir,'  said  Arabella. 

'And  without  having  sufficient  property  of  your 
own  to  afford  your  husband  any  permanent  assistance 
in  exchange  for  the  worldly  advantages  which  you 
knew  he  would  have  gained  if  he  had  married  agree- 
ably to  his  father's  wishes?'  said  the  old  gentleman. 
'This  is  what  boys  and  girls  call  disinterested  affection, 
till  they  have  boys  and  girls  of  their  own,  and  then 
they  see  it  in  a  rougher  and  very  different  light  I' 

Arabella's  tears  flowed  fast,  as  she  pleaded  in  ex- 
tenuation that  she  was  young  and  inexperienced  ;  that 
her  attachment  had  alone  induced  her  to  take  the  step 
to  which  she  had  resorted;  and  that  she  had  been  de- 
prived of  the  counsel  and  guidance  of  her  parents  al- 
most from  infancy. 

'It  was  wrong,'  said  the  old  gentleman  in  a  milder 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  511 

tone,  'very  wrong.  It  was  foolish,  romantic,  unbusi- 
nesslike.' 

'It  was  my  fault;  all  my  fault,  sir,'  replied  poor 
Arabella,  weeping. 

'Nonsense,'  said  the  old  gentleman;  'it  was  not  your 
fault  he  fell  in  love  with  you,  I  suppose?  Yes,  it  was, 
though,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  looking  rather  slyly 
at  Arabella.  'It  was  your  fault.  He  couldn't  help 
it.' 

This  little  compliment,  or  the  little  gentleman's  odd 
way  of  paying  it,  or  his  altered  manner — so  much 
kinder  than  it  was,  at  first — or  all  three  together, 
forced  a  smile  from  Arabella  in  the  midst  of  her  tears. 

'Where  's  your  husband?'  inquired  the  old  gentle- 
man, abruptly;  stopping  a  smile  which  was  just  com- 
ing over  his  own  face. 

'I  expect  him  every  instant,  sir,'  said  Arabella.  'I 
persuaded  him,  to  take  a  walk  this  morning.  He  is 
very  low  and  wretched  at  not  having  heard  from  his 
father.' 

'Low,  is  he?'  said  the  old  gentleman.  'Serve  him 
right!' 

'He  feels  it  on  my  account,  I  am  afraid,'  said  Ara- 
bella ;  'and  indeed,  sir,  I  feel  it  deeply  on  his.  I  have 
been  the  sole  means  of  bringing  him  to  his  present  con- 
dition.' 

'Don't  mind  it  on  his  account,  my  dear,'  said  the 
old  gentleman.  'It  serves  him  right.  I  am  glad  of 
it — actually  glad  of  it,  as  far  as  he  is  concerned.' 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  the  old  gentleman's 
lips,  when  footsteps  were  heard  ascending  the  stairs, 
which  he  and  Arabella  seemed  both  to  recognise  at  the 
same  moment.  The  little  gentleman  turned  pale,  and 
making  a  strong  effort  to  appear  composed,  stood  up, 
as  Mr.  Winkle  entered  the  room. 

'Father !'  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  recoiling  in  amazement. 


512  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

'Yes,  sir,'  replied  the  little  old  gentleman.  'Well, 
sir,  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?' 

Mr.  Winkle  remained  silent. 

'You  are  ashamed  of  yourself,  I  hope,  sir?'  said  the 
old  gentleman. 

Still  Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing. 

'Are  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  sir,  or  are  you  not?' 
inquired  the  old  gentleman. 

'No,  sir,'  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  drawing  Arabella's 
arm  through  his.  'I  am  not  ashamed  of  myself,  or  of 
my  wife  either.' 

'Upon  my  word!'  cried  the  old  gentleman,  iron- 
ically. 

'I  am  very  sorry  to  have  done  anything  which  has 
lessened  your  affection  for  me,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Winkle ; 
'but  I  will  say,  at  the  same  time,  that  I  have  no  reason 
to  be  ashamed  of  having  this  lady  for  my  wife,  nor 
you  of  having  her  for  a  daughter/ 

'Give  me  your  hand,  Nat,'  said  the  old  gentleman 
in  an  altered  voice.  'Kiss  me,  my  love.  You  are 
a  very  charming  little  daughter-in-law  after  all.' 

In  a  few  minutes'  time  Mr.  Winkle  went  in  search 
of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  returning  with  that  gentleman, 
presented  him  to  his  father,  whereupon  they  shook 
hands  for  five  minutes  incessantly. 

'Mr.  Pickwick,  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  all 
your  kindness  to  my  son,'  said  old  Mr.  Winkle,  in 
a  bluff  straightforward  way.  'I  am  a  hasty  fellow, 
and  when  I  saw  you  last,  I  was  vexed  and  taken  by 
surprise.  I  have  judged  for  myself  now,  and  am 
more  than  satisfied.  Shall  I  make  any  more  apolo- 
gies, Mr.  Pickwick?' 

'Not  one,'  replied  that  gentleman.  'You  have  done 
the  only  thing  wanting  to  complete  my  happiness.' 

Hereupon,  there  was  another  shaking  of  hands  for 
five  minutes  longer,  accompanied  by  a  great  number 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  513 

of  complimentary  speeches,  which,  besides  being  com- 
plimentary, had  the  additional  and  very  novel  recom- 
mendation of  being  sincere. 

Sam  had  dutifully  seen  his  father  to  the  Belle 
Sauvage,  when,  on  returning,  he  encountered  the  fat 
boy  in  the  court,  who  had  been  charged  with  the  de- 
livery of  a  note  from  Emily  Wardle. 

'I  say/  said  Joe,  who  was  unusally  loquacious, 
'what  a  pretty  girl  Mary  is,  isn't  she?  I  am  so  fond 
of  her,  I  am!' 

Mr.  Weller  made  no  verbal  remark  in  reply;  but 
eyeing  the  fat  boy  for  a  moment,  quite  transfixed  at 
his  presumption,  led  him  by  the  collar  to  the  corner, 
and  dismissed  him  with  a  harmless  but  ceremonious 
kick.  After  which,  he  walked  home,  wrhistling. 


CHAPTER  LVII 

IN  WHICH  THE  PICKWICK  CLUB  IS  FINALLY  DISSOLVED, 
AND  EVERYTHING  CONCLUDED  TO  THE  SATISFACTION 
OF  EVERYBODY. 

FOR  a  whole  week  after  the  happy  arrival  of  Mr. 
Winkle  from  Birmingham,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam 
Weller  were  from  home  all  day  long,  only  returning 
just  in  time  for  dinner,  and  then  wearing  an  air  of 
mystery  and  importance  quite  foreign  to  their  natures. 
It  was  evident  that  very  grave  and  eventful  proceed- 
ings were  on  foot;  but  various  surmises  were  afloat, 
respecting  their  precise  character.  Some  (among 
whom  was  Mr.  Tupman)  were  disposed  to  think  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  contemplated  a  matrimonial  alliance; 
but  this  idea  the  ladies  most  strenuously  repudiated. 
Others,  rather  inclined  to  the  belief  that  he  had  pro- 
jected some  distant  tour,  and  was  at  present  occu- 


514  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

pied  in  effecting  the  preliminary  arrangements;  but 
this  again  was  stoutly  denied  by  Sam  himself,  who  had 
unequivocally  stated  when  cross-examined  by  Mary 
that  no  new  journeys  were  to  be  undertaken.  At 
length,  when  the  brains  of  the  whole  party  had  been 
racked  for  six  long  days,  by  unavailing  speculation, 
it  was  unanimously  resolved  that  Mr.  Pickwick  should 
be  called  upon  to  explain  his  conduct,  and  to  state  dis- 
I  tinctly  why  he  had  thus  absented  himself  from  the  so- 
ciety of  his  admiring  friends. 

With  this  view,  Mr.  Wardle  invited  the  full  circle  to 
dinner  at  the  Adelphi ;  and,  the  decanters  having  been 
twice  sent  round,  opened  the  business. 

'We  are  all  anxious  to  know,'  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, 'what  we  have  done  to  offend  you,  and  to  in- 
duce you  to  desert  us  and  devote  yourself  to  these  soli- 
tary walks.' 

'Are  you?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  'It  is  singular 
enough  that  I  had  intended  to  volunteer  a  full  ex- 
planation this  very  day ;  so,  if  you  will  give  me  another 
glass  of  wine,  I  will  satisfy  your  curiosity.' 

The  decanters  passed  from  hand  to  hand  with  un- 
wonted briskness,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  looking  round  on 
the  faces  of  his  friends,  with  a  cheerful  smile,  pro- 
ceeded— 

'All  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  among  us,' 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'I  mean  the  marriage  that  has 
taken  place,  and  the  marriage  that  will  take  place, 
with  the  changes  they  involve,  rendered  it  necessary 
for  me  to  think,  soberly  and  at  once,  upon  my  future 
plans.  I  determined  on  retiring  to  some  quiet  pretty 
neighbourhood  in  the  vicinity  of  London;  I  saw  a 
house  which  exactly  suited  my  fancy;  I  have  taken  it 
and  furnished  it.  It  is  fully  prepared  for  my  recep- 
tion, and  I  intend  entering  upon  it  at  once,  trusting 
that  1  may  yet  live  to  spend  many  quiet  years  in  peace- 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  515 

ful  retirement,  cheered  through  life  by  the  society  of 
my  friends,  and  followed  in  death  by  their  affec- 
tionate remembrance.' 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  a  low  murmur  ran 
round  the  table. 

'The  house  I  have  taken,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  'is  at 
Dulwich.  It  has  a  large  garden,  and  is  situated  in 
one  of  the  most  pleasant  spots  near  London.  It  has 
been  fitted  up  with  every  attention  to  substantial  com- 
fort ;  perhaps  a  little  elegance  besides ;  but  of  that  you 
shall  judge  for  yourselves.  Sam  accompanies  me 
there.  I  ha\e  engaged,  on  Perker's  representation,  a 
housekeeper — a  very  old  one — and  such  other  servants 
as  she  thinks  I  shall  require.  I  propose  to  consecrate 
this  little  retreat,  by  having  a  ceremony  in  which  I  take 
a  great  interest,  performed  there.  I  wish,  if  my 
friend  Wardle  entertains  no  objection,  that  his  daugh- 
ter should  be  married  from  my  new  house,  on  the  day 
I  take  possession  of  it.  The  happiness  of  young 
people,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  a  little  moved,  'has  ever 
been  the  chief  pleasure  of  my  life.  It  will  warm  my 
heart  to  witness  the  happiness  of  those  friends  who 
are  dearest  to  me,  beneath  my  own  roof.' 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused  again:  Emily  and  Arabella 
sobbed  audibly. 

'I  have  communicated,  both  personally  and  by  let- 
ter, with  the  club,'  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  'acquaint- 
ing them  with  my  intention.  During  our  long  ab- 
sence, it  had  suffered  much  from  internal  dissensions ; 
and  the  withdrawal  of  my  name,  coupled  with  this 
and  other  circumstances,  has  occasioned  its  dissolution. 
The  Pickwick  Club  exists  no  longer. 

'I  shall  never  regret,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a  low 
voice,  'I  shall  never  regret  having  devoted  the  greater 
part  of  two  years  to  mixing  with  different  varieties 
and  shades  of  human  character:  frivolous  as  my  pur- 


516  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

suit  of  novelty  may  have  appeared  to  many.  Nearly 
the  whole  of  my  previous  life  having  been  devoted  to 
business  and  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  numerous  scenes 
of  which  I  had  no  previous  conception  have  dawned 
upon  me — I  hope  to  the  enlargement  of  my  mind,  and 
the  improvement  of  my  understanding.  If  I  have 
done  but  little  good,  I  trust  I  have  done  less  harm,  and 
that  none  of  my  adventures  will  be  other  than  a  source 
of  amusing  and  pleasant  recollection  to  me  in  the  de- 
cline of  life.  God  bless  you  all !' 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  filled  and  drained 
a  bumper  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  his  eyes  mois- 
tened as  his  friends  rose  with  one  accord,  and  pledged 
him  from  their  hearts. 

There  were  very  few  preparatory  arrangements  to 
be  made  for  the  marriage  of  Mr.  Snodgrass.  As  he 
had  neither  father  nor  mother,  and  had  been  in  his 
minority  a  ward  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  that  gentleman 
was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  his  possessions  and 
prospects.  His  account  of  both  was  quite  satisfac- 
tory to  Wardle — as  almost  any  other  account  would 
have  been,  for  the  good  old  gentleman  was  overflowing 
with  hilarity  and  kindness — and  a  handsome  portion 
having  been  bestowed  upon  Emily,  the  marriage  was 
fixed  to  take  place  on  the  fourth  day  from  that  time : 
the  suddenness  of  which  preparations  reduced  three 
dress-makers  and  a  tailor  to  the  extreme  verge  of  in- 
sanity. 

Getting  post-horses  to  the  carriage,  old  Wardle 
started  off,  next  day,  to  bring  his  mother  up  to  town. 
Communicating  his  intelligence  to  the  old  lady  with 
characteristic  impetuosity,  she  instantly  fainted  away ; 
but  being  promptly  revived,  ordered  the  brocaded 
silk  gown  to  be  packed  up  forthwith,  and  proceeded 
to  relate  some  circumstances  of  a  similar  nature  at- 
tending the  marriage  of  the  eldest  daughter  of  Lady 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  517 

Tollimglower,  deceased,  which  occupied  three  hours 
in  the  recital,  and  were  not  half  finished  at  last. 

Mrs.  Trundle  had  to  be  informed  of  all  the  mighty 
preparations  that  were  making  in  London,  and  being 
in  a  delicate  state  of  health  was  informed  thereof 
through  Mr.  Trundle,  lest  the  news  should  be  too 
much  for  her;  but  it  was  not  too  much  for  her,  inas- 
much as  she  at  once  wrote  off  to  Muggleton,  to  order  a 
new  cap  and  a  black  satin  gown,  and  moreover  avowed 
her  determination  of  being  present  at  the  ceremony. 
Hereupon,  Mr.  Trundle  called  in  the  doctor,  and  the 
doctor  said  Mrs.  Trundle  ought  to  know  best  how  she 
felt  herself,  to  which  Mrs.  Trundle  replied  that  she 
felt  herself  quite  equal  to  it,  and  that  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  go ;  upon  which  the  doctor,  who  was  a  wise 
and  discreet  doctor,  and  knew  what  was  good  for  him- 
self as  well  as  for  other  people,  said  that  perhaps  if 
Mrs.  Trundle  stopped  at  home  she  might  hurt  herself 
more  by  fretting,  than  by  going,  so  perhaps  she  had 
better  go.  And  she  did  go ;  the  doctor  writh  great  at- 
tention sending  in  half  a  dozen  of  medicine  to  be 
drunk  upon  the  road. 

In  addition  to  these  points  of  distraction,  Wardle 
was  intrusted  with  two  small  letters  to  two  small  young 
ladies  who  were  to  act  as  bridesmaids ;  upon  the  receipt 
of  which,  the  two  young  ladies  were  driven  to  despair 
by  having  no  'things'  ready  for  so  important  an  occa- 
sion, and  no  time  to  make  them  in — a  circumstance 
which  appeared  to  afford  the  two  worthy  papas  of  the 
two  small  young  ladies  rather  a  feeling  of  satisfaction 
than  otherwise.  However,  old  frocks  were  trimmed, 
and  new  bonnets  made,  and  the  young  ladies  looked 
as  well  as  could  possibly  have  been  expected  of  them. 
And  as  they  cried  at  the  subsequent  ceremony  in  the 
proper  places,  and  trembled  at  the  right  times,  they 
acquitted  themselves  to  the  admiration  of  all  beholders. 


518  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

How  the  two  poor  relations  ever  reached  London — 
whether  they  walked,  or  got  behind  coaches,  or  pro- 
cured lifts  in  waggons,  or  carried  each  other  by  turns 
— is  uncertain;  but  there  they  were,  before  Wardle; 
and  the  very  first  people  that  knocked  at  the  door  of 
Mr.  Pickwick's  house  on  the  bridal  morning  were  the 
two  poor  relations,  all  smiles  and  shirt  collar. 

They  were  welcomed  heartily  though,  for  riches  or 
poverty  had  no  influence  on  Mr.  Pickwick;  the  new 
servants  were  all  alacrity  and  readiness ;  Sam  was  in  a 
most  unrivalled  state  of  high  spirits  and  excitement; 
Mary  was  glowing  with  beauty  and  smart  ribands. 

The  bridegroom,  who  had  been  staying  at  the  house 
for  two  or  three  days  previous,  sallied  forth  gallantly 
to  Dulwich  Church  to  meet  the  bride,  attended  by  Mr. 
Pickwick,  Ben  Allen,  Bob  Sawyer,  and  Mr.  Tupman ; 
with  Sam  Weller  outside,  having  at  his  buttonhole  a 
white  favour,  the  gift  of  his  lady  love,  and  clad  in  a 
new  and  gorgeous  suit  of  livery  invented  for  the  occa- 
sion. They  were  met  by  the  Wardles,  and  the 
Winkles,  and  the  bride  and  bridesmaids,  and  the 
Trundles;  and  the  ceremony  having  been  performed, 
the  coaches  rattled  back  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  to  break- 
fast, where  little  Mr.  Perker  already  awaited  them. 

Here,  all  the  light  clcuds  of  the  more  solemn  part  of 
the  proceedings  passed  away;  every  face  shone  forth 
joyously;  nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  congratulations 
and  commendations.  Everything  was  so  beautiful! 
The  lawn  in  front,  the  garden  behind,  the  miniature 
conservatory,  the  dining-room,  the  drawing-room,  the 
bed-rooms,  the  smoking-room,  and  above  all  the  study 
with  its  pictures  and  easy  chairs,  and  odd  cabinets, 
and  queer  tables,  and  books  out  of  number,  with  a 
large  cheerful  window  opening  upon  a  pleasant  lawn 
and  commanding  a  pretty  landscape,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  little  houses  almost  hidden  by  the  trees ;  and 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

then  the  curtains,  and  the  carpets,  and  the  chairs, 
and  the  sofas !  Everything  was  so  beautiful,  so  com- 
pact, so  neat,  and  in  such  exquisite  taste,  said  every- 
body, that  there  really  was  no  deciding  what  to  admire 
most. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  stood  Mr.  Pickwick, 
his  countenance  lighted  up  with  smiles,  which  the 
heart  of  no  man,  woman,  or  child,  could  resist :  himself 
the  happiest  of  the  group:  shaking  hands,  over  and 
over  again  with  the  same  people,  and  when  his  own 
hands  were  not  so  employed,  rubbing  them  with 
pleasure:  turning  round  in  a  different  direction  at 
every  fresh  expression  of  gratification  or  curiosity, 
and  inspiring  everybody  with  his  looks  of  gladness 
and  delight. 

Breakfast  is  announced.  Mr.  Pickwick  leads  the 
old  lady  (who  has  been  very  eloquent  on  the  subject 
of  Lady  Tollimglower)  to  the  top  of  a  long  table; 
Wardle  takes  the  bottom;  the  friends  arrange  them- 
selves on  either  side;  Sam  takes  his  station  behind  his 
master's  chair;  the  laughter  and  talking  cease;  Mr. 
Pickwick,  having  said  grace,  pauses  for  an  instant, 
and  looks  round  him.  As  he  does  so,  the  tears  roll 
down  his  cheeks,  in  the  fulness  of  his  joy. 

Let  us  leave  our  old  friend  in  one  of  those  moments 
of  unmixed  happiness,  of  which,  if  we  seek  them, 
there  are  ever  some,  to  cheer  our  transitory  existence 
here.  There  are  dark  shadows  on  the  earth,  but  its 
lights  are  stronger  in  the  contrast.  Some  men,  like 
bats  or  owls,  have  better  eyes  for  the  darkness  than  for 
the  light.  We,  who  have  no  such  optical  powers,  are 
better  pleased  to  take  our  last  parting  look  at  the 
visionary  companions  of  many  solitary  hours,  when 
the  brief  sunshine  of  the  world  is  blazing  full  upon 
them. 


520  THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS 

It  is  the  fate  of  most  men  who  mingle  with  the 
world,  and  attain  even  the  prime  of  life,  to  make  many 
real  friends,  and  lose  them  in  the  course  of  nature. 
It  is  the  fate  of  all  authors  or  chroniclers  to  create 
imaginary  friends,  and  lose  them  in  the  course  of  art. 
Nor  is  this  the  full  extent  of  their  misfortunes;  for 
they  are  required  to  furnish  an  account  of  them 
besides. 

In  compliance  with  this  custom — unquestionably  a 
bad  one — we  subjoin  a  few  biographical  wrords,  in  re- 
lation to  the  party  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  assembled. 

Mr.  and  Sirs.  Winkle,  being  fully  received  into 
favour  by  the  old  gentleman,  were  shortly  afterwards 
installed  in  a  newly -built  house,  not  half  a  mile  from 
Mr.  Pickwick's.  Mr.  Winkle,  being  engaged  in  the 
City  as  agent  or  town  correspondent  of  his  father, 
exchanged  his  old  costume  for  the  ordinary  dress  of 
Englishmen,  and  presented  all  the  external  appear- 
ance of  a  civilised  Christian  ever  afterwards. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Snodgrass  settled  at  Dingley  Dell, 
where  they  purchased  and  cultivated  a  small  farm, 
more  for  occupation  than  profit.  Mr.  Snodgrass,  be- 
ing occasionally  abstracted  and  melancholy,  is  to  this 
day  reputed  a  great  poet  among  his  friends  and  ac- 
quaintance, although  we  do  not  find  that  he  has  ever 
written  anything  to  encourage  the  belief.  There  are 
many  celebrated  characters,  literary,  philosophical,  and 
otherwise,  who  hold  a  high  reputation  on  a  similar 
tenure. 

Mr.  Tupman,  when  his  friends  married,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  settled,  took  lodgings  at  Richmond,  where 
he  has  ever  since  resided.  He  walks  constantly  on  the 
Terrace  during  the  summer  months,  with  a  youthful 
and  jaunty  air  which  has  rendered  him  the  admiration 
of  the  numerous  elderly  ladies  of  single  condition  who 
reside  in  the  vicinity.  He  has  never  proposed  again. 


THE  PICKWICK  PAPERS  521 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  having  previously  passed  through 
the  Gazette,  passed  over  to  Bengal,  accompanied  by 
Mr.  Benjamin  Allen;  both  gentlemen  having  received 
surgical  appointments  from  the  East  India  Company. 
They  each  had  the  yellow  fever  fourteen  times,  and 
then  resolved  to  try  a  little  abstinence;  since  which 
period,  they  have  been  doing  well. 

Mrs.  Bardell  let  lodgings  to  many  conversable 
single  gentlemen,  with  great  profit,  but  never  brought 
any  more  actions  for  breach  of  promise  of  marriage. 
Her  attorneys,  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  continue 
in  business,  from  which  they  realise  a  large  income, 
and  in  which  they  are  universally  considered  among 
the  sharpest  of  the  sharp. 

Sam  Weller  kept  his  word,  and  remained  unmar- 
ried, for  two  years.  The  old  housekeeper  dying  at 
the  end  of  that  time,  Mr.  Pickwick  promoted  Mary 
to  the  situation,  on  condition  of  her  marrying  Mr. 
Weller  at  once,  which  she  did  without  a  murmur. 
From  the  circumstance  of  two  sturdy  little  boys  hav- 
ing been  repeatedly  seen  at  the  gate  of  the  back 
garden,  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  Sam  has  some 
family. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  drove  a  coach  for  twelve 
months,  but  being  afflicted  with  the  gout,  was  com- 
pelled to  retire.  The  contents  of  the  pocket-book  had 
been  so  well  invested  for  him,  however,  by  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, that  he  had  a  handsome  independence  to  retire 
on,  upon  which  he  still  lives  at  an  excellent  public- 
house  near  Shooter's  Hill,  where  he  is  quite  reverenced 
as  an  oracle :  boasting  very  much  of  his  intimacy  with 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  retaining  a  most  unconquerable 
aversion  to  widows. 

Mr.  Pickwick  himself  continued  to  reside  in  his  new 
house,  employing  his  leisure  hours  in  arranging  the 
memoranda  which  he  afterwards  presented  to  the 


522  THE  PICKWICK  PAPEKS 

secretary  of  the  once  famous  club,  or  in  hearing  Sam 
Weller  read  aloud,  with  such  remarks  as  suggested 
themselves  to  his  mind,  which  never  failed  to  aif ord 
Mr.  Pickwick  great  amusement.  He  was  much  trou- 
bled at  first,  by  the  numerous  applications  made  to 
him  by  Mr.  Snodgrass,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Trundle, 
to  act  as  godfather  to  their  offspring;  but  he  has  be- 
come used  to  it  now,  and  officiates  as  a  matter  of 
course.  He  never  had  occasion  to  regret  his  bounty 
to  Mr.  Jingle;  for  both  that  person  and  Job  Trotter 
became,  in  time,  worthy  members  of  society,  although 
they  have  always  steadily  objected  to  return  to  the 
scenes  of  their  old  haunts  and  temptations.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick is  somewhat  infirm  now;  but  he  retains  all  his 
former  juvenility  of  spirit,  and  may  still  be  frequently 
seen,  contemplating  the  pictures  in  the  Dulwich  Gal- 
lery, or  enjoying  a  walk  about  the  pleasant  neighbour- 
hood on  a  fine  day.  He  is  known  by  all  the  poor 
people  about,  who  never  fail  to  take  their  hats  off,  as 
he  passes,  with  great  respect.  The  children  idolise 
him,  and  so  indeed  does  the  whole  neighbourhood. 
Every  year,  he  repairs  to  a  large  family  merry-making 
at  Mr.  Wardle's;  on  this,  as  on  all  other  occasions,  he 
is  invariably  attended  by  the  faithful  Sam,  between 
whom  and  his  master  there  exists  a  steady  and  recipro- 
cal attachment  which  nothing  but  death  will  terminate. 


THE  END 


